NationStates Jolt Archive

Nimzonia Network News (NNN) bulletin, broadcast at 9:00pm April 3rd, in place of regular television schedules.

NNN anchorman Simon Sandvik delivered his trademark cheesy wink and pearly-white grin, before beginning his announcement, "Martin Pedersson, CEO of one of Nimzonia's oldest and largest corporations, Quisling Pharmacuticals, was arrested today on charges of Grand Conspiracy, among many other charges too numerous to mention in this bulletin. It follows government reforms and investigations to limit the power of large corporations. It came to light that Pedersson, nephew of the company founder Haaken Quisling, who inherited the multi-billion-dollar corporation upon his uncle's death in 1979, used company resources to finance numerous illegal operations within Nimzonia. More from Ingrid Ulving, our corporate correspondant. Ingrid?"

The scene changed to the front steps of a corporate tower in Koenberg. The red-haired reporter, in her mid twenties, was wrapped against the northern chill, and holding an oversized yellow microphone, branded with the NNN logo, "Simon." she acknowledged the anchorman, before launching into her report, "They're keeping quiet at Quisling central offices here in Koenberg, but according to government press release, this facade of normalcy hides rot within. According to the ministry of the interior, Martin Pedersson operated an extensive Black Ops network, which is being unravelled by government investigators even as we speak. This network was responsible for covert operations against other large companies, as well as large illegal R&D networks, developing and testing all manner of illegal substances from biological weapons and combat drugs, to highly addictive recreational substances. At this stage, we really don't know how many pies Pedersson had his fingers in, but it looks like a lot of the kidnappings in Koenberg over the last few years were conducted by this so-called Black Ops division, for the purposes of human testing.

Back in the studio, and Simon Sandvik lounged in his leather-upholstered chair, regarding the image of Ingrid Ulving on the large screen behind him, "So, Pedersson may be responsible for the kidnapping, and perhaps even murder, of innocent citizens?"

"That's right, Simon. In fact, we have reason to believe that this may have been going on since as early as 1982. Top secret documents were seized by government investigators, hinting that the number of people abducted and murdered by Quisling Black Ops in the last decade, in Nimzonia and abroad, may even exceed one thousand. According to the ministry of the interior, these people have been used for purposes as varied as substance testing, live ammunition testing and training, and perhaps most controversially, genetic engineering."

Simon Sandvik pulled one of his over-exaggerrated frowns, so that even the least intelligent viewers might discern that this idea was supposed to be troubling him, "Genetic Engineering. Human cloning for medical purposes has only just been legalised in Nimzonia, yet you say these experiments have been going on since the early eighties? What are the purposes of these experiments, do you have any idea?"

"Well, we haven't been given all the information yet, although the government certainly seems eager to make this affair public. Martin Pedersson is alleged to have amassed within his Black Ops division what government officials called a 'small private army', and these agents are supposedly still holding up the investigation. One project that the press release did reveal information on, certainly one of the largest run by Quisling Black Ops, was referred to as an attempt to create, or at least, begin the creation of, a genetically enhanced master race. Now, you can forget all the science-fiction implications of this; as I understand it, it wasn't intended to create all-powerful cyborgs or telepaths," the reporter permitted herself a chuckle, "But to realise one of Adolph Hitler's visions, of an aryan master race, through selective breeding and genetic modifications."

Even Simon Sandvik looked surprised at this, momentarily lapsing in his demeanor of smug self-confidence, "Well... that certainly puts into perspective the scale of Mr Pedersson's criminal undertakings. How far advanced was the project? Is this to say, then, that Martin Pedersson had neo-nazi affiliations?"

"Apparently, the project was fairly advanced; not in that they have produced superhumans or any such thing, but the creation and training of members, or at least, prototype members, of this supposed 'Perfect race' has been ongoing since the mid nineteen-eighties, and they may number over one hundred individuals. While not superhuman, per se, these individuals supposedly fall into the upper spectrum of human capabilities, in terms of physical and mental abilities. Several weeks ago, special forces were involved in a raid on the project's main laboratory facility in the Nordreijk mountains, and the majority of these individuals were captured, along with a number of project staff. Interrogations and psychological analysis indicates that these individuals, who range from four to eighteen years old, have certainly been educated and trained with a militant nazi agenda in mind."

Simon Sandvik adjusted his tie, "Ahem... So, you are saying Pedersson has been funding the creation of a... of a fanatical aryan army?"

"Well, it's difficult to say what exactly Pedersson's intentions were. Certainly, it has been hinted, that he did have strong links with a number of militant nationalist organisations, but it seems that this genetic-engineering project was conducted largely on behalf of a major foreign nazi paramilitary organisation, with which Mr Pedersson had strong ties. The identity of this organisation is not yet known for sure, but it has been alluded to in a number of the captured documents. Further investigations into Mr Pedersson's affairs, conducted by police and special forces, are expected to provide more information on this group.

"I see." Simon Sandvik fumbled around with one hand for his glass of water, "And what about the... well, the children that are the result of this project? What does the government plan to do with them? You said that the majority have been captured, so presumably some are still unaccounted for?"

"Yes, I suspect in all the controversy over Pedersson's conspiracies, the rights of these unfortunate individuals may be forgotten by the majority. As I mentioned previously, they have been subjected to psychological analysis, and it seems as though they have been indoctrinated, or perhaps brainwashed is a better word, with all manner of extremist nazi rationale. Now, the youngest of those, in the range of four to six years, may be put up for adoption after a period of counselling. Those in the middle age range, seven to fourteen, may take several years of deprogramming and re-education before they can be released into society. The government has been rather quiet on what the fate of the older group will be, but I have my doubts that they will ever be rehabilitated... Yes, that's right, a number are still unaccounted for. Quisling Black ops agents apparently managed to escape from the special forces strike, with around ten of these individuals. They are still being hunted, and citizens are advised to keep an eye out for any suspicious behaviour."

-----

Vaadenbruk, western Nimzonia

With a disgusted look on his face, 005_CMD switched off the television in the small flat in the western coastal city of Vaadenbruk, where he and his band of Quisling Black Ops agents were hiding out, waiting for word from their foreign contacts.

"Well, this is a fine mess we're in." he announced to the group of twenty or so Black Ops agents crowded into the small room, "Pedersson makes an excellent fall-guy, and I daresay 001_CMD will escape unscathed, but I very much doubt we shall be so lucky, unless our contact hurries up and gets his finger out."

He paced back and forth, by the net-curtain shrouded window, thinking about the current plan. They had only managed to salvage eleven of the project's genetically-engineered aryans, or 'GELFs' as the facility staff had casually referred to them, and 005_CMD intended to sell them to the nazis who had supported this whole accursed project, and spend that money on retiring to some quiet country where the law would probably never find him. If he could shed a few agents along the way, to increase his share of the profits, all the better.

Hiding out was made all the more difficult, by the GELFs themselves; they weren't exactly inconspicuous, and neither were they pleasant to be around. The purpose of the project was supposedly to create Perfect humans, but insofar as 005_CMD could tell, they had only succeeded in creating soulless psychos. They were creepy beyond belief - when they weren't following orders, they just sat there, staring vacantly. They never talked, never betrayed any sign of emotion. In fact, the only time that anything unnerved them at all, was when they were brought out of the facility for the first time, and the outside world had made them briefly uneasy. Now, though, they seemed to have adapted, and they just sat there; none of the men liked dealing with them, and 005_CMD didn't blame them. If he was honest, he would have described himself as emotionless and cold, but the GELFs put him to shame. Physically, they were only teenagers, but mentally... 005_CMD shuddered; they acted like machines. He wished their contact would hurry up and take them off his hands, but since communications were rather one-way, he would have to wait for them to get in touch with him.

"Very well. Five and Six, go out and get us some takeaway or something, will you?" he looked at the men again, "Oh, and five of you go out and buy a change of clothes for you and the GELFs - with those trenchcoats and dark glasses, you couldn't look more like Black Ops agents."

-----

OOC:
This will be a mostly character-based, mostly serious (although wit and humour are, of course, appreciated), hopefully intelligent modern only RP.

I'm looking for a volunteer to play the foreign nazi paramilitary group who will be meeting with 005_CMD to buy the GELFs, and smuggle them out of the country. if you want to play that role, Telegram me with a description of your group, methods, plan etc, and we'll see where it goes. Obviously, it will have to be a reasonably large, wealthy, and influencial group, to be pulling Martin Pedersson's strings.
Note: this doesn't mean that you have to be a Nazi nation. Non-nazi nations have nazi groups within them; the USA and UK, for a start. I'm simply looking for someone else to play the nazis, because it'd be a bit pointless me playing them myself.

If you want to join, as any other foreign party who may have an interest in the transaction between 005_CMD and the nazis, or any of Quisling's other as yet unspecified illegal operations, again, feel free to join, but give me some details first.

As Quisling's illegal operations fall apart, which shady foreign groups can snatch up the pieces, before the government does?

OOC:

For the benefit of nations and foreign groups interested in working within Nimzonia, it is located here, in the north atlantic.
http://jupiter.walagata.com/w/fricasso/NS_Map3.jpg

This map shows the location of Vaadenbruk, as well as numerous other major cities.
http://jupiter.walagata.com/w/fricasso/NS_map_2.jpg

BUMP (Mmmm... Corporate Black Ops... you know you want to... :wink: )

ooc: [tag]
and Nice maps :]

How did you make the maps?

How did you make the maps?

The bottom one I drew freehand in Jasc Paintshop Pro, with a mouse. The top one, I can't claim credit for, because I took an already existing map, and dumped Nimzonia on it.

In other news: Where are all the roleplayers in this town?

OOC: I considered taking the spot, as Doujinshi Corporation.. which no doubt would give me the infrastructure and resources to do it, but I am involved in to many conflicts to do it right now. Sorry :P

ooc: [tag]
and Nice maps :]

Thanks, though at this rate, all you'll have tagged will be me repeatedly saying 'BUMP'. :wink:

ooc: May I suggest checking your telegrams...(hopefully it sent, IE trouble)

Simonfjord Army Base, outside the city of Naajir, 1:18am April 5th

Colonel Skreien was awoken by the abrupt sound of gunshots, first what sounded like pistol rounds, then a burst of rifle fire. The alarm sounded within seconds, and by that time, he was already on his feet, pulling his trousers on, and heading for the door. As he hurried out towards the yard, still fastening his gunbelt, he met the watch lieutenant coming the other way.

"The prisoners?" Skreien asked, immediately. It seemed no coincidence that a gunfight would be errupting in his base, the night after he had taken custody of a number of the genetically modified humans and research staff from the Quisling research base, while the government decided what to do with them.

"Yes sir" The lieutenant nodded, "One managed to escape from his cell, and released a whole block before we could stop him. We're just rounding them up now."

Skreien stepped out into the freezing night air with the lieutenant. He could hear the clatter of boots in the barrackhouse behind him, as the troops hurried from bed to action stations. The floodlights in the guard towers were on, and a pair of armoured cars were making for the gate, presumably to chase down any prisoners that had made it past the fence. The occasional shot still rang out from somewhere among the many identical barracks.

The colonel glanced behind him, where a fully equipped platoon was emerging from the barrack house, still blinking the sleep from their eyes. He beckoned a corporal towards him, "Your section with me. The rest of you spread out and secure the area. Don't take any chances."

Leading the small group, he hurried towards the source of the gunfire he could hear, which was coming from the service gate on the eastern fence. Skreien drew his pistol, and ducked in between two buildings, the small squad following him. He came out opposite the gate, and got his first look at the scene. There were a few dead or wounded soldiers scattered around the place, that he noticed straight away, but then his eyes were drawn to the two prisoners who seemed to be making short work of the gatekeepers. With bright blonde hair, and dressed in white prison issue attire, they stood out against the dark background, and he could clearly see how efficiently they moved, like elite forces, with the assault rifles presumably stolen from vanquished guards. What struck him, though, was that they appeared to be girls. Two teenage girls - they couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen - were making mincemeat of his professional soldiers.

He realised he was hesitating, and this was long enough for one of them to notice him; the GELF calmly raised her rifle, and aimed a burst of automatic fire his way. He dived to the floor, as bullets ripped into the wall of the barrack house behind him, and hit the leg of one of his troops, putting the man out of the fight. Hesitation over, Skreien raised his Browning HP-35, and fired a few return shots. He was lucky, and the second of his snapshots hit the girl before she was able to aim and fire again. The bullet struck her in the chest, and she fell without a sound.

"Don't move! Drop your weapon!" he bellowed at the remaining GELF, as his squad finally reacted to the threat, levelling their rifles at the escapee. She hesitated for the briefest of moments, before swinging her weapon round to fire on them, the same blank look on her face as all of the genetically-engineered humans wore. A volley of fire from Skreien's squad knocked her down before she could get off a shot.

Picking himself up, Skreien swore. He had been hoping to recapture them, but now he realised they really were as emotionless and fanatical as the special forces commander had insisted. He turned, and saw the watch lieutenant hurrying over.

"THe Perimeter is secured, sir - four prisoners killed, and nine recaptured. There's eight still unnaccounted for."

Colonel Skreien glanced towards the two broken bodies on the ground nearby, "Make that six killed and six unaccounted for. Find out which prisoners are missing, and get tracking them down. With the amount of noise and mess they've just made, we're not going to keep this a secret for long!"

Minutes later

Colonel Skreien was sitting at his desk, with a large glass of whiskey, when the phone rang. He waited for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, and picking up.

"Colonel Skreien... yes, General..."

He gritted his teeth slightly, as the senior officer proceeded to berate him. After a few moments, he took a gulp of whiskey, and responded.

"Six prisoners escaped... Yes... As far as I'm aware, four GELFs and two research staff... Yes, I have the details here. Yes sir, I'll fax the files to you at once. My men are out looking... they can't have got far, in this weather... I expect they'll be trying to link up with their fellow operatives, but we don't know anything about the foreign groups that might be aiding them."

The colonel gritted his teeth, as he recieved another invective.

"I'm sorry sir. I'll do my best. I don't know how long we can keep this a secret - it was a rather noisy incident... yes. Very well, sir."

Skreien hung up the phone, and downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. Then he faxed the list of escaped prisoners to the General.
[code:1:2b823f167f]
To: office of General F. Tobiassen, First Army.
From: Colonel J. Skreien, Simonfjord.
Escaped prisoner list.

GELFs:
"John Doe" GELF-048, IC1MY12-5'1"
"John Doe" GELF-012, IC1MY16-5'9"
"Jane Doe" GELF-007, IC1FY17-6'0"
"John Doe" GELF-003, IC1MY18-6'0"

RESEARCH STAFF:
"John Doe" 0002-RSD, IC1MN58-5'8"
"Dr Alun Ytterhus" 0748-RSD, IC1MR36-6'2"

All are armed with assault rifles and pistols. The GELFs are all considered extremely dangerous. 0002-RSD is also considered dangerous. Dr Ytterhus was only a lab technician, and is not expected to offer any significant danger to armed troops.
[/code:1:2b823f167f]

------

OOC:
Just to make it more interesting, there's now a second group of escapees on the run, and they could be found by anyone who has an interest in the research project, from foreign nazis, to rival corporations, to international criminals. Feel free to make up a concept and jump in, so long as it fits the theme reasonably well.

Still looking for people to join!

BUMP

Mike Frod Jr first son of the recently deceased Mike Frod Sr. is the owner and Chairman of the Board of directors of Frod Motors the second largest automobile and equipment manufacturer in MadderMike. Jim Frod fourth son of the recently deceased Mike Frod was an outcast in the family and the society of MadderMike.

His mother the third wife of Mike Frod Sr. was from Nimzonia and insisted on namining him something other than Mike. She had to travel to Nimzonia 9 months pregnant to have him born there in order to have his first name other than Mike. This gave Jim dual citizenship, something he exploited in his adult years.

Jim resented his father giving Mike Frod Jr. control of the family business. To be fair Mike Frod Jr. offered many highly placed positions to Jim but in the end just gives him a huge monthly stipend. With several billions of Gold Bugs per year roughly equivalent to 2 1/2 billion USD to spend, Jim has used the money to set up many subversive groups. His main goal is to get rid of his three other brothers and take control of the family business.

Jim has been meeting with the ultra secret society El-Cosa-Nazi. He plans to take over that organization as well to further his own purposes.

OOC: Jim can play as a partner in a coalition, leader or where ever he fits best.

OOC:
Excellent. Maybe things will start to get going now...

IC:
Outskirts of Naajir

An armoured car rumbled past, and the six fugitives crouched low in the bushes. When the coast was clear, they hurried across the road, through the trees on the other side, and onto an industrial estate on the outskirts of Naajir.

0002-RSD, one of the chief scientists of the Master Race Project, led them around the edge of a parking lot, to where a row of transit vans were parked. The four GELFs moved swiftly and silently behind him, with practised ease. Dr Ytterhus, a plump red-haired man with a nervous twitch, brought up the rear, glancing around anxiously, sweat running down his face. 0002-RSD turned round with a scowl, as Ytterhus stumbled over an uneven paving slab, dropping his pistol with a loud clatter.

"Be careful, you fool!" the senior scientist hissed, "The army is still out looking for us."

"S-sorry..." Ytterhus whispered, reaching for his pistol with a shaking hand, and picking himself up. He'd only joined the Black Ops staff for the money, and was now finding out the hard way that crime doesn't pay.

0002-RSD, a gaunt, completely bald man of nearly sixty, with sharp, aquiline features was more of a driving force behind the project. While he too was in it for the money, he was rather less ethical in his methods than the junior lab staff, who were mostly shielded from the more horrific aspects of their work. He shook his head; he could see now that Ytterhus was going to be a liability, but he needed all the hands he could get. He looked around to where the GELFs, the results of his work, were waiting; it was a pity he had only managed to bring four with him - they certainly had their uses.

"Open a van, and get it started." He ordered. One of them moved to obey, quickly and competantly picking the lock on the driver's door of a nearby van, and hotwiring the engine.
"Get in." 0002-RSD hissed to Ytterhus, and motioned for the GELFs to enter with a swift nod. 0002-RSD sat in the front passenger seat, assault rifle in his lap, "Now, get us out of here." he ordered the GELF who had taken the driver's seat, "Head for Schroeberg - there's a satellite uplink there we can use, if it hasn't been compromised already."

With barely an acknowledgement, the driver brought them out of the parking lot, and headed for the North Coast Motorway. 0002-RSD took this moment to think things through; 001-CMD and 002-CMD would probably be long gone by now, but there would probably be other Black Ops cells that hadn't been discovered yet. Or he could always try contacting one of the outside groups to help him escape; maybe even a rival corporation - they would certainly want his secrets, and he wasn't too bothered who he worked for, so long as the money was good, and nobody placed any moral restrictions on his work. The GELFs would probably fetch a decent price, too.

OOC:
Still looking for more shadowy groups to take an interest in Quisling Black Ops, whether as allies or rivals; it's all pretty open. Come on in!

Abandoned Steel Mill B-3
Northern Lontana, Central Agrigento
_______________________________

The rally was going well, over a hundred supporters had crowded into the decrepit building, a clear indicator of the global industrial shift that had left this small city with thousands of unemployed factory workers.

While the chants, songs, and speeches continued in the dusty work area, several men met inside of one of the managerial orifices discussing matters with little concern to the economic policies of small town politics.

"Rudolfo, we must make our offer now! Before our competitors make their bids!"

"Calm down, Luciano, we will wait for the proper time. We do not wish to appear too eager."

"But you heard the news!! It is only a matter of time before they are bought, or worse, captured by the Nimzonian authorities."

"We made our deal with Quisling, and El-Cosa-Nazi, not with these scientists. If they want their money, they will contact us first"

Jim Frod is talking to his second-in-command and confidant Mike Hess. Jim is the Under-Secretary of covert operations of EL-Cosa-Nazi and Hess is the Communications Director "Mike have you gotten in touch with Rudolfo in Agrigento?"

Hess "No, sir. He is not answering our call. I told you to get him hooked up with the satellite phone."

Frod "No, that just invites the Nimzonians and others to listen in. We have to get them to move in and get those scientists. The GELFs are of the utmost priority as long as we have someone to control them."

Jim Frod continues "I'll fly Rudolfo and a squad of his men to Iceland and I have a 45' cigarette boat with 3 Hawk engines ready to drop them off in Nimzonia. We just have to hear from them to get it set up."

Hess "What about the back up team?"

Frod "Yes, lets activate them. They have been goofing off in Scotland for too long."

Mike Hess encodes a short message and calls the "Scotsman" newspaper and puts an ad in the personals section. Nubian beauty seeks schooner captain for offshore adventure. Must have engine for long term relationship.

With that ad the backup team of hired commandos are ordered to take their fishing trawler to Nimzonia to await further instructions. The trawler has state of the art spreadspectrum communications gear for secure contacts.

The commando team is a collection of mercenaries from all over the world headed up by LTCOL Nevil "Red" Ghormley British SAS (Retired) pilot. The rest of his band of misfits are:
LT Mike Fawkes MadderMike Seal Team (Dishonorable Discharge) underwater demolition expert.
SSGT L. W. Armondi Italian Caribineri asked to leave, sharpshooter, sniper
PFC Abu Bin Kalla Iranian secret police walked out rifleman
PFC Lorenzo Mullanio Brazillian secret police thrown out Weapons expert
PFC Clyde Mulholland Australian Army demolition expert one tour of duty honorable discharge. Wanted in Australian for attempted rape and battery.
PFC Olga Khorinskiy Russian KGB left for any pay, small arms expert, communications expert.

Vaadenbruk, Western Nimzonia

In their small flat in Vaadenbruk, 005_CMD inspected the group of agents in their new 'inconspicuous' attire. For the most part, he supposed, they'd done a reasonable job of buying the right kind of thing; an assortment of tracksuits, business suits, jeans and sweaters, and the like. A few of them had stubbornly insisted on wearing their dark glasses still, and there had been a fight over who got the 'I'm with stupid' sweater, but all in all, they were looking considerably less like corporate goons. The five scientists, he had allowed to remain in their tweed jackets with leather elbow-patches, because Vaadenbruk was a large university city, and all manner of absent-minded professors wandered the streets; they wouldn't look out of place as they were.

The GELFs, he decided, would never look inconspicuous, no matter how well you dressed them up. The blonde hair and blue eyes weren't the problem - those traits accounted for about fifty percent of the population, which was one of the reasons that the project had been conducted in Nimzonia in the first place - it was their general demeanor. The eleven of them, aged from twelve to nineteen, sat there in the corner, in the typical teenage attire the agents had brought back for them, but it was so evident that they didn't belong in anything other than combat blacks or camo fatigues. Aside from the many small genetic advantages they had been gifted with, the brutal and all-encompassing conditioning and training programme had been perfect, up to a point; they were, or at least, would be when they reached their twenties, the perfect soldiers - extensively trained, unhindered by morals, and conditioned to accept orders without question. Having never been exposed to any other belief system, they believed utterly in the extreme-right doctrine they had been fed - it constituted their entire world view - and they would pursue those goals fanatically, even to the death. Unfortunately, what with the conditioning, the training, the forced learning and all manner of supposedly performance-enhancing drugs and stimulants, they really didn't have anything in the way of personality.

Oh well, 005_CMD thought, if El-Cosa-Nazi and their partners didn't like it, they could always clone them, and train them differently.

He nodded to the group of agents, who were apparently still waiting for some words of approval, "Very nice. You look like normal people. Well done." he glanced towards the GELFs; they evidently couldn't care less what they looked like, so long as a commanding officer had decreed it.

"Bah, what's keeping them!? If someone from El-Cosa-Nazi doesn't contact us soon... well, there's not much we can do, is there? I'm getting sick of waiting around here."

OOC:
El-Cosa-Nazi - The Nazi Thing? :D

OOC:The Nazi thing, exactly :lol:

IC: Red Ghormley is taking the El-Cosa-Nazi trawler out from the main port of the Isle of Skye.
Red "It is 500 miles to Nimzonia lads set up 6 hour watches and lets get a move on. Olga get on that radio and stir up the Secretary of Covert Ops and get some info. We need to know where we are headed, Nimzonia is a big place we can save a lot of time if we have a better idea of our target."

He has the motley crew practice and do exercizes. They really don't mind as it takes their mind off seasickness. Only Mike Fawkes seems to enjoy the sea and he takes most of the watches in the pilot house, navigating and driving the little trawler.
--------------
Mike Frod and Mike Hess are working on contacting the main group of escapees. They are supposed to be in one of the El-Cosa-Nazi safe houses. They have tried most of them and Vaadenbruk is the next place to try. Hess dials the number and sets up the scrambler just in case.

Vaadenbruk safe house

An agent answered the call, and passed the phone to 005_CMD, "Sir... El-Cosa-Nazi."

005_CMD took the reciever, "About time. This is Five-CMD. We've been holed up here for five days now, waiting for a contact. I have..." He paused for a moment, then continued, "This had better be a secure line; the whole country's crawling with special forces and intelligence men right now. I'll give you more details of what I've got, and what price I'm asking, if you can give me assurance that there's no chance anybody's listening in on this."

Mike Hess "If the red light on your phone is not flashing get out of the house now. If it is let me know and further instructions will be delivered."

005_CMD slowly drew the phone back from his face, as if it might explode. He glanced down. The red light was flashing. He sighed, relieved.

"It's flashing. So now what? There's thirty-eight of us, all told, including the GELFs. As far as I'm aware, there may be Quisling Black Ops groups still active and uncompromised, but we've lost contact. In any case, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who has any GELFs."

Mike Hess "Roger that we have arranged a tour bus ostensibly headed for a rock concert at Valnar. It has markings and hand painted signs touting the rock band Lizard Tongue they are holding a concert in Valnar in four days. Our team to assist you will arrive in Horkisvaad in a day and a half. They will pick up the tour bus and meet you at assembly point bravo for further transfer to Valnar and we will extract you first to Iceland then to our training camp. It is assumed the GELF controler will remain with them. Your fee for this delivery will be six million USD and if you decide to continue in our employ you will receive a yearly sum of $500,000. Is this acceptable?

Mike Hess tries to contact Rudolfo in Agrigento he checks the number and tries again. He needs these guys to do the extraction and to find the other escapees. He hopes they haven't been captured.

005_CMD leaned against the wall. It looked like some negotiation was going to be in order.

"Six million? Do you have any idea how much effort and resources have been put into this project over the last twenty-three years? If it wasn't for the enthusiasm of our friend Martin Pedersson, it would be costing you a hundred times that."

He lit a cigarette, to help him think.

"I'm sure some of my agents and scientists will want to continue working on this project with you, and we managed to salvage most of the project's backup documents. I, however, wish to clean my hands of this whole affair, and for that, I will need money. Your deal is no longer with Quisling, it's with me; if you want my GELFs, you can pay my prices."

He took a drag on the cigarette, and continued.

"I have eleven GELFs; seven male and four female. Six from Batch 3, Four from Batch 4, and one from Batch 5. As far as I'm aware, the government has captured the whole of Batch 7. The Batch 3s, you can have for 1 million USD each. The Batch 4s, you can have for 3 million USD each. The Batch 5 will cost you 10 million, by itself. That's a total of 28 million. If you buy the lot, I'll throw the research materials in for free. I really don't think I'm being unreasonable - they are an extremely valuable and rare product, and you are getting an exclusive deal here."

Mike Hess listened to 005_CMD's counter offer and confered with Jim Frod.

Jim "Well I expected him to ask for $35 million, offer him $20 million and keep the conversation short someone will notice this signal soon."

Mike Hess responds to 005_CMD's offer with the $20 Million offer. He also explains to keep the phone call short any call from a foreign country is cause for concern to the Nimzonian secret police or what ever they have.

005_CMD stared through the net curtains at the port city outside.

"26 million is my final demand. I'm really not in a mood to be bartered with any further than this. If you were dealing with Quisling right now, you'd be paying to take into account the cost of the project; lucky for you, I'm just out to save my neck and get out with a nice retirement package. You can easily afford it, and it's convenient for both of us. The alternative is that I start to look for bids from other groups that have an interest. I'm pretty sure corporations such as Prism and NTC would be willing to pay handsomely for our research, especially since they've consistently failed to take it from us in the past. I expect I could get more than 28 million if I put them on ebay. It would just take time."

Mike Hess confers with Jim Frod and Frod agrees.

Hess "$26 Million it is, give me the numbers and it will be in your account. Don't forget Point Bravo in 4 days. Stay low. If things get hot there is another safe house in the suburbs just don't let any GELFs out on the street." He passes on the address and the code to get in.
--------------
Olga Khorinskiy tells Red the location they are headed and she has received the instructions from Hess on what to do when they get there. She tells Red that 005_CMD is the first to go if anything goes wrong. She outlines the plan to go to Valnar and escape to Iceland.

Red tells her that is a bad idea Nimzonia has almost as many agents in Iceland as they do in Nimzonia. Oh well, he has long since quit questioning anything his employers do unless it involves his own safety.

They pay well and it allows him to keep his small castle on the Isle of Skye supplied with the very best of everything.

Vaadenbruk

005_CMD gave the details of an offshore account, and put the phone down, and turned to the assembled men.

"Well, we've got a deal. The pickup is at point bravo in four days; we'll be leaving the country from Valnir. Anyone who wants to continue working on the project is welcome; I daresay you'll be well enough paid. The rest of us, however, I suggest we head to somewhere out of the way and quiet, like Indian Casino Operator. I've heard it's a haven for spies."

He looked around at the group, "How many will continue on the project?"

The four scientists raised their hands. A few agents did too. He glanced around at the others.

"Very well." he looked at the others; that left seventeen agents to share in the cash. One of them stepped forward; 0021_SEC, who had been chief of security at the Master Race Project research facility. He was a large, broad-shouldered thug, with a square jaw and moustache, with flecks of grey appearing in it as he approached his fifties.

"That money's going into your account. How do we know you'll pay us our share?" He demanded. There were a few murmurs of agreement from the agents, although, 005_CMD noticed, not many of them seemed willing to take sides in this matter. They just want out, he thought.

"Gentlemen," said 005_CMD, "I am the leader of this project. You are just a gang of hired thugs. Once we've left the country, you can continue working for me as a gang of very wealthy hired thugs."

"That's not good enough!" 0021_SEC growled, "We want to get out of this mess as much as you. You give us a share of those millions, and we'll disappear quietly."

005_CMD studied the group of agents for a moment. He could see that they were uncertain - and certainly weren't all going with 0021_SEC on this matter. Most of them weren't bright enough to take that sort of initiative. He saw a few faces he knew were loyal; they'd make useful lieutenants later. 0021_SEC would probably have to be dealt with at some point.

"You'll disappear very quietly, if you don't stay in line." he said, levelly.

Anger flared in 0021_SEC's eyes, and he lunged forward, to swing a fist at 005_CMD's face. It took him a few moments to realise that his punch hadn't connected, and that something had caught him by the elbow. He looked round, into a pair of cold blue eyes. The GELF moved quickly, striking him once in the abdomen, and then connecting an elbow sharply with 0021_SEC's nose, sending him sprawling across the floor. The group of agents shuffled back, in case the fight came their way. 005_CMD raised a hand to halt the GELF. He stood over the prone figure of 0021_SEC, who was sprawling on the floor cursing incoherently, blood gushing from his nose.

"Try that again, and I'll give you a third nostril. Now shut up; I don't want to hear another word out of you."

005_CMD sent the GELF to stand back with the others, with a swift nod. They were quite effective, and he'd be sorry to let them go, but he didn't think he could stand them for much longer than a few more weeks, and 26 million was a lot of money.

Outskirts of Schroeberg

0002_RSD considered that they'd been fairly lucky, evading the police and the army so far. They'd had to change vehicles a few times, but that was alright - the GELFs had no trouble acquiring them.

Dr Ytterhus was beginning to get on his nerves; the man just kept whimpering, and seemed to be having a nervous breakdown. 0002_RSD preferred the company of his GELFs - they didn't talk unless you asked them to, and you could rely on them not to do anything stupid. Still, he thought, Ytterhus might make a useful diversion later, if the army showed up. It was always worth having someone to sacrifice.

The satellite phone was located in a company-owned flat in the suburbs. There was nobody there, and they'd had to force the door, but at least the government hadn't discovered it yet.

"How long until the satellite is available?" 0002_RSD asked.

"Thirty six minutes." one of the GELFs responded, in that clipped, precise way they had of speaking. All of them had been taught at least four languages; some of the staff had argued that it was rather pointless teaching them more languages, since they only ever spoke when told to, but, 0002_RSD had claimed, that wasn't the point; they could listen in four languages.

"Very well. I'd be surprised if the government has managed to compromise our satellites yet." he glanced to where Ytterhus was sitting, biting his nails, "Ytterhus - pull yourself together, and make some coffee."

Office of General Tobiassen, Naajir

The general was in a bad mood, today, and not just because of the resent escape from Simonfjord. There was news from Koenberg; Martin Pedersson had committed suicide in his cell at Intelligence Central. Apparently he'd managed to hang himself with his bedsheets. This was no good - Pederssen was just about the only captive they could get information out of - while most of the others were either hardened agents, or low-level technicians and the like that didn't know anything, Martin Pedersson was basically just a pampered rich kid. Albeit, a pampered rich kid in his fifties, but still very easy for the interrogators to lean on, and get information out of. Now, it looked like that source had dried up.

General Tobiassen looked at the latest report on the Master Race Project; this time they'd managed to give him some concrete facts and figures:
[code:1:b05067bcd0]
Quisling Black Ops: Master Race Project

001_CMD: Chief Director, Quisling Black Ops
002_CMD: Head of Black Ops Research Division
005_CMD: Master Race Project Director
0002_RSD: Research team co-leader
0006_RSD: Research team co-leader
0021_SEC: Chief of Facility Security

Project Start: March 5th, 1981

Batch #01, 1983:
Severe genetic defects; batch terminated after testing.
Individuals: 16
terminated during testing: 16
Other fatalities: 0

Batch #02, 1984:
Severe genetic defects; batch terminated after testing.
Individuals: 12
terminated during testing: 12
Other fatalities: 0

Batch #03, 1985-1988:
First successful batch; Blonde hair, blue eyes, height exactly 6'0" by age of 17.
Average IQ: 143
Training proves above average athletic capability, spatial awareness, reaction speed, motor skills and perception. Successful traits continued to next batch.
Individuals: 42
terminated during testing: 18
Other fatalities: 9

Batch #04, 1989-1991:
Average IQ: 156
Increased mental and physical abilities; Immunological modifications successfully implemented - batch shows increased resistence to common viral infections such as influenza, and full immunity to other diseases, including Tuberculosis and Smallpox. Successful traits continued to next batch.
Individuals: 40
terminated during testing: 10
Other fatalities: 2

Batch #05, 1992-1996:
Average IQ: approx. 170-175; IQ testing potentially inaccurate at current ages.
Improved learning capacity; batch shows increased ability to rapidly acquire languages and skills, and memorise complex lists and tables. Increased stamina proven via extensive testing. further immunological modifications show increased resistance to common poisons such as alcohol, arsenic, cyanide, nitrous oxide, anticoagulents etc. Successful traits continued to next batch.
Individuals: 89
terminated during testing: 41
Other fatalities: 3

Batch #06: 1997
Severe genetic defects; batch terminated after testing.
Individuals: 10
terminated during testing: 10
Other fatalities: 0

Batch #07: 1998-2000
Average IQ: estimated 180-185; IQ testing inaccurate at current ages.
Improved hearing, night vision, eyesight. TESTING INCOMPLETE
Individuals: 61
terminated during testing: 28
Other fatalities: 4

Batch #08: 2001
Severe genetic defects; batch terminated after testing.
Individuals: 7
terminated during testing: 7
Other fatalities: 0

Batch #09: 2002-2003
Severe genetic defects, undetected for first eighteen months. Batch terminated after testing.
Individuals: 21
terminated during testing: 21
Other fatalities: 0

Batch #10: 2004
Batch still in production.

Total remaining individuals:

Batch #03: 15
Batch #04: 28
Batch #05: 45
Batch #07: 29

Total: 117
[/code:1:b05067bcd0]

Those figures weren't exactly up to date, he considered: Nine GELFs had been killed in various incidents, and as far as he was aware, there were fifteen on the loose. However, getting a concrete figure for the project's total output at least gave him the assurance that, with the 93 GELFs they still had in captivity, the 15 on the run, and the 9 deceased, there weren't any others that he didn't know about.

OOC:
Just some random exposition in that last bit, so that some other stuff I may come out with may make sense. El-Cosa-Nazi, and Rinascita Fascista (if I remember rightly, that's Rudolfo's group?) may have less up-to-date versions of this information.

Jim Frod decides he wants to get closer to the action, not participate mind you just get closer and get a feel for the action. He has Mike Hess book flights to Koenberg via Indian Casino Operator.

While in Indian Casino Operator he has two electronics experts load the satellite uplink, the scrambler, GPS locators and various other electronic gear into the cheeziest electric toys he could find. Indians hunting buffalo with spears, red lights flashing to show blood. Indians scalping settlers with more lights and moving characters. Indians dancing around a campfire. All with blinking lights moving characters tons of wires, servos, lights and tiny electric motors. Each toy makes loud noises to simulate the adventure but nowhere close to realistic.

He has two safe houses set up one in Koenberg and the other in Port Odea. He will have no trouble getting in-county but Hess might so Hess carries only touristy stuff. The safe houses have guns and ammo so no risks carrying that stuff in.

Jim Frod as all MadderMikians is required to have and prove proficiency in small arms either rifle or pistol. There are annual competitions in which every citizen is required to enter. The pistol competitions are target and "real world" with pop up silhouettes where you have to kill the bad guy and not kill the good guy. Each type of competition is further split into regular handgun and hand-cannons i.e. 44 magnum .50cal Desert Eagle, 454 Casual and 445 Dan Wesson. Jim likes the hand-cannon real world and scored high in the regionals.

Mike Hess likes both the target and the real world but regular pistols. He almost made the regional finals which would have taken him to the states.

They decide the electronics experts were too conspicious and left them behind.

The get off the plane in Koenberg .

Is there another character , if there is may i play him / them.

Is there another character , if there is may i play him / them.

OOC:
Feel free to make up a character or group that might have an interest in this whole affair. If you do, though, make sure you've read through the thread and know what's going on. No future tech, though, please. The nazi role has more or less been filled, but rival corporations may still have an interest in what's going on here, and maybe even rival nazi groups. If there's anything you're not sure on, TG me, and we can sort it out. :)

Koenberg

Security at the international airport was fairly tight. While it wasn't unusual to see armed police at the terminal, the fully armed and tooled up army patrols were a little out of the ordinary. They seem to be more interested in the people on outbound flights, than inbound ones, though.

A bored airport official looked briefly at Frod and Hess' passports, before nodding them through to the customs desk. The customs officers suppressed smirks and giggles, at the sight of the tacky indian toys.

"Hey, Uther, look at this." One of them chuckled.

"Made in Indian Casino Operator alright!" the officer identified as Uther smirked, "Just check out that quality craftmanship!"

"Here, remember on the news last week, about the whaling treaty? General Jaarinen was going on about how the indians still respect their traditional culture and heritage?"

Uther sniggered, "Yeah... I mean, look at this," he turned the tacky goods over in his hands, "It's really... ethnic."

The other officer smirked at Jim and Mike, "Couldn't resist a spot of indigenous indian culture, eh?" he waved them through, "Have fun! Buy the plastic horned-helmets and strap-on beards while you're here - you'll love them!"

The pair of them sniggered to themselves, before getting back to work.

Outside, by the taxi rack, more armed police and army groups were hanging around, much to the annoyance of arriving passengers. Huge rows of billboards covered in advertising slogans revealed Nimzonia's consumer driven culture. A huge, thirty foot high board depected a majestic image of General Jaarinen, in gleaming white military attire. On a nearby board, an advertisment for the new Frod Thudnerbrid was scrawled with graffitti, apparently displaying the average Nimzonian teenager's distaste for foreign made automobiles.

The loudspeaker system, which infested just about every public place, announced that 'evil spies' and 'traitors' were being hunted down, and that the population were 'safe', concluding with a triumphant, "All Hail General Jaarinen!", followed by a rendition of the Nimzonian national anthem, an authortitative tune that harped on about 'fire and ice', in Old High Nimzonian.

As usual, in Koenberg, it was rather chilly.

Jim Frod and Mike Hess walk out of the airport and try to find the rental car companies. The guy at the information desk said they moved all the rental companies outside of the complex to prevent car bombs and they needed the space for more security.

Jim notices the graffiti covered ad for the Frod Thudnerbrid. He shook his head at his stupid brother's marketing and design acumen. He told his brother the anemic in-line six-cylinder engine was not going to sell. It's not like he doesn't spend money sponsoring racecars. He could use some of that technology and apply it to his line of cars. Jim would bring the family business back to its glory days as soon as he took over.

Mike Hess is shivering in the brisk Nimzonian air. They both notice the increased security presence and it really doesn't enter their minds just how dangerous the Quisling escapees are. Jim is only interested in using them to get rid of his brother and to take out the leadership of El-Cosa-Nazi.

Jim's title is Under-Secretary Of Covert Operations, he has only met the next higher up the Secretary Of Covert Operations Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn. Jim knows he is a Nimzonian and lives in the mountains south of Schroeberg. He also knows the fat lazy slug is no Colonel either. Unbeknownst to Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn nor Mike Hess. Red Ghormley’s little group is going to split up and the splinter group is going to take out the Colonel. The beauty of small cells is Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn doesn’t know about Red Ghormley.

Jim knows the GELFs will be needed to take on the next layer of El-Cosa-Nazi.

OOC: My posting will be sporadic for a few days.

The head of the the corporation called SUPER TRADE was sitting at his desk catching up on the latest news on the Quisling Scandal. When a new,tall man came into the room. The chairman who was named Mattjilx looked up. He was a big man with much power in his head he was a criminal master mind , he had organized the black market for Mattvia and was head of the once powerful clone corporation but no body knew that yet.
"Sir the Quisiling scandal , I have a plan ." He started up. "The GELFS are the way to enter Mattvia in the clone race again".
"Ha , cloning and such trades are outlawed anyone caught will be killed , you know that."
"Yes sure i know that , but this is what we do , get are private army and capture 1 or 2 or maybe even 3 and study them see how there made , we still have one or two clone labs and many of the scientists will be proud to work on them. Then after we have done are tests give them to the army"he said proudly.
" But we are not Nazis and the army will just shoot us." He told him in a bored voice.
"One are test will be not to make them Aryan so they may be ginger or brown hair and have green eyes and stuff like that . And the army if we make a big force then they will have no choice."
"OK lets give a try get ready around 600 men they must be drooped in the country side I want no Mattvian ID on them at all."
Then he ran out of the door jumping for joy.
Mattjilx sat back and muttered to himself "but if you fail you will be the one getting shot by the army not me ".

Above the Nimzonian Sea

A pair of Super-Etendards, painted in the colours of the Nimzonian Air force, and with the anchor symbol emblazoned on their fuselage and wing tips, soared high over the surface of the water. Fighter patrols had increased lately, due to the threat of Quisling operatives escaping by sea.

"So... run this by me again?" Flight-Sergeant Christensen asked his superior and wingman, Pilot Officer Eggen, "GELFs, right? I thought they were those guys off Red Dwarf. You know, the hairy ones with the beer bellies?"

"Its an acronym, you dolt." said Eggen, "It stands for Genetically Engineered Life Form."

"Oh... I thought they were a bunch of goose-stepping nazis, not hairy mutants."

"Are you being this thick on purpose?" Eggen demanded, "GELFs don't just come in the hairy mutant variety. They also come in the Hitler-youth variety as well, apparently."

"Oh..." there was a period of radio silence as they continued in their patrol, "So... We're not going to be shooting down space mutants after all?"

"Just shut up and fly."

------

Schroeberg

"The satellite is ready." one of the GELFs stated flatly, and passed the satellite phone to 0002_RSD. The scientist took it.

"Now... who can I get to bid for you, I wonder?" he asked the GELFs rhetorically; none of them responded, "Let's try those thugs at El-Cosa-Nazi first. I daresay they'll pay me by the truckload for your blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, and not care in the slightest for the true fruits of my labour."

He entered the codes for El-Cosa-Nazi; technically he wasn't supposed to know them, that being exclusively the responsibility of high command. However, 0002_RSD hadn't become a genetic manipulator and general ravager of the natural world, by giving a damn about things that man was not meant to know.

"El-Cosa-Nazi." he addressed the message, "I have a deal for you, that, given the current climate, you may find particularly interesting. I shall be at this location for the next six hours. If you do not respond promptly, I shall seek more enthusiastic factions."

He put the phone down, and took a cup of coffee from the shaking hands of Dr Ytterhus, "And now we wait."

OOC: Still waiting for Agrigento to post again :?

Mike Hess and Jim Frod arrive at the safe house in Koenberg. They leave the electronic gear set up in the Indian Casino Operator toys. They work and it provides at least some cover. Maybe enough to escape or eliminate trouble before anyone knows their true purpose.

The satellite receiver begins to receive a message.

Mike Hess thinks this is strange as it is supposed to be activated when he initiates the contact.

Hess reads the message and quickly notifies Jim Frod that another group of GELFs are located.

Hess replies that El-Cosa-Nazi is interested and asks if another safe house is needed. He quickly notes the location and there is a safe house in a warehouse in the middle of Schroeberg. It might do for about 24 hours.

Schroeberg

Colonel Skreien's men smashed their way into the small flat, paying little heed to the concepts of subtlety and discretion. The Colonel himself followed a short way behind; if there were GELFs in there, he didn't want to be in the front line.

They had smashed their way into fifteen possible Quisling safe houses, and so far had turned up nothing. Still, they went on what little information they had.

The troops moved quickly through the living area and kitchen, rucking up the carpet with their boots, and taking care to smash any vases and such with the butts of their rifles, as they had learned from watching too many cop shows.

As Skreien crossed the threshold, a Sergeant emerged from the kitchen, "Place is empty sir, but I reckon someone's been here recently - the kettle's still warm. We found some communications equipment down in the basement, but it looks like it's been smashed up."

"Ah, hell!" Skreien realised how close they'd come to actually finding something. He ran outside to one of the APCs, and grabbed a radio, "Major, have your company blockade all the roads to the south and east; Bravo company will blockade the exits to the west. Make sure nothing gets in or out of Schroeberg."

Skreien glanced up to the captain sitting on the roof of the APC, "I'm going to the mayor's office, to inform him of a 5pm curfew, and martial law. Have your company set up patrols; and keep alert - you've seen how dangerous these GELFs are."

-----

0002_RSD and his underlings were barely a hundred yards down the street, when they heard the smashing of glass behind them, and turned to see Skreien's men breaking into their former safe house. 0002_RSD led them abruptly into a side alley.

"That was close." he said, more to himself, than the others, "How could they have found us? Even if the satellite was compromised, it would take them longer than that to trace the signal..."

"C-coincidence?" Ytterhus stuttered. 0002_RSD scowled at the other man.

"Possibly. We cannot take the risk that the El-Cosa-Nazi safehouse has been discovered. However, it is our only contact point. If the army knows we're here, then the surrounding area is going to be crawling with grunts. We barely got away from Naajir, and the terrain was more favourable there..."

He thought for a moment in silence. Since the GELFs were always silent, the only sound was the occasional whimper from Ytterhus. 0002_RSD scowled at him.

"First of all, we'll get ourselves some less conspicuous clothing. Then, we'll find a house where the occupants will not be missed, and commandeer it. Then, we will post a watch on the El-Cosa-Nazi safehouse, and see if the army show an interest in it."

That decided, they hurried off down the alley, and into the street beyond.

"Team one get contact with the spy, teams, 2 and 4 go with them. But be careful!". The three teams each numbering 10 men went in the direction of the 'safe house'. The leader of the operation was active Sgt Major Griffin kiln. Who had spent fifteen years in Mattvias army, he had killed 32 men in that time, he then served 5 mouths in computer work, got bored and join Super Trade then was enlisted into the private army after great skill of the 'super fire' of 1996.
"Teams 5 to 15 stay in the area make contact say we are here and stay under cover I will send someone to update you in 3 days time. Captain Aidan your in charge." He said over the radio.
"The rest come with me" he told the rest. After a more detailed plan only 200 came with another 200 ready if they had to get up close to any special forces.
They were all wearing Mattvian special forces gear, but all rank and Mattvian clues where destroyed.
There main aim was to get in contact with there spy in El-Cosa-Nazi get all information and capture the GELFS at any cost. They knew there would be heavy loses but it was for the good of Mattvia.
But what they did not want to do is get in a fight with other special forces.

LTCOL Nevil "Red" Ghormley's team arrives in Horkisvaad and splits into two groups. LT Mike Fawkes, SSGT L. W. Armondi and PFC Abu Bin Kalla split off and head to the mountains south of Schroeberg to dispatch Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn with extreme prejudice.

That leaves Red Ghormley, PFC Lorenzo Mullanio, PFC Clyde Mulholland, and PFC Olga Khorinskiy. Clyde and Olga are young enough to pass as members of the "Tundra Grunge" following Lizard Tongue. Lorenzo will pass as the tour bus driver and Red looks like a tour organizer. They get to the warehouse holding the decorated bus and pick up the maps, some Nimzonian shivs, and assorted smoke bombs, gas masks, stun guns, and six AK47s with 500 rounds.

LT Fawkes spots a Frod Aerosore van with "Wash Me" written in the dirt of the back window. "This will do." he says. They quickly boost the van and the team load their gear in to the back of the van. They drive to a carry out beer and wine shop. They buy a couple of cases of beer and some plastic horned hats and drive to an alley where L. W. and Mike pour beer on their clothes and gargle with some of the other bottles. L. W. and Mike put the plastic hats on at crazy angles. They empty several more bottles and throw them on the floor of the van where they rattle around. Abu is the driver and he wraps a cloth around his head looking like the perfect Arab gypsy cab driver. They head off towards Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn's house.

Red finds Point Bravo on the map, "We have about six hours until the rendezvous, get some sleep it is only a two hour drive."

Jim Frod and Mike Hess are watching a documentary on the sinking of an environmentalist groups protest ship, the Blue something or other. Jim decides he has to tell Mike about the elimination of Col. Stefannsonn. He has been waiting all day for a call from Rudolfo.

"Rudolfo must be compromised" he tells Hess. "We will have to use Red's second group after they neutralize Col. Stefannsonn. They will have to pick up the second group of GELFs and we will have to figure out a way to get them out of the country. "

"You're going to kill Dagfinnur!!" Hess exclaims.

"Yes, it is the only way to get to the top of the "Company". We have everything in place now is the time. The Nimzonians are occupied with finding the GELFs and what is one more subversive found belly up." Jim explains.

Vaadenbruk

005_CMD looked up from his watch, "Right, we'll start moving out now. We'll head for point Bravo in small groups, by different routes. If we move the GELFs separately, hopefully nobody will notice anything out of the ordinary."

He glanced towards the group of GELFs, who had been deliberately dressed in various shades of scruffy. At a glance, they might pass for normal, assuming nobody stopped to look too hard. Then again, 005_CMD supposed, there were some pretty creepy kids around these days, so it probably wouldn't draw that much attention.

"And stay sharp in case we get any trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if they try to backstab us; I know I'd consider it."

The agents hefted their kitbags, which contained a selection of shotguns, grenades, and UMP45 submachineguns. 005_CMD checked his own pistol, a H&K USP with a stainless steel slide, before slipping it back into his coat, and lighting a cigarette.

"Let's go." he picked up his own bag, which contained dozens of discs worth of project backup files, and waited for the agents to move out.

Nordreijk mountains

Roads through the mountains tend to be windy, cliffside affairs, clinging to the side of sheer rockfaces, dozens of feet above fjords below, scattered with tunnels. The scenery would probably be quite impressive, if it wasn't for the fog.

Traffic was conspicuously absent, along the main roads to Schroeberg; the news of martial law recently being imposed in the area, and the army effectively quarantining the city, seems to have put people off from visiting.

Up towards the centre of the mountains, essentially the gap between two jagged ranges, was a fairly level area, with a few villages in it. Being at fairly high altitude, in a somewhat chilly country to begin with, the whole area was blanketed with snow, and must be one of the most bleak places to live on Earth. On the main road through this area, was a military checkpoint, consisting of a couple of IFVs parked across the road, and a few soldiers sitting around a fire in heavy parkas, cursing their luck that they got posted to just about the most frigid area of the country.

When they spotted the Aerosore van coming up the road, one of them got to his feet, and raised a gloved hand for the van to stop.

Outskirts of Schroeberg

The scrubby grassland around the city of Schroeberg featured the kind of vegetation that manages somehow to cling to life in the face of long winters and near constant frost.

Occasionally a hummvee or a helicopter went past, although the crews had been patrolling this area for a while now, and were getting a bit bored. Closer to the edge of town, there were checkpoints on all the roads leading in or out of Schroeberg. They were just regular grunts and conscripts, and certainly weren't expecting Mattvian special forces.

Nordreijk mountains

LT Fawkes and crew spot the military checkpoint. Fawkes and Armondi check their fully suppressed Desert Eagle .50 cal handguns. They begin to sing German drinking songs poorly. Abu pulls to a swerving stop sliding on the snow dusted pavement. The soldier stopping the van steps to the driver side window and Abu opens it with a banging of his right hand and winding the window crank with his left.

Abu "Greetings to you fine sirs, I am Abu, most excellent tour guide and excellent driver of this very fine tour bus." Mike and L. W. switch to an old Norse drinking song and Mike takes his plastic hat off and tries to blow one of the horns.

Abu "These are my two most esteemed passengers from the Madder of Mike. They have paid me to show them the famous reindeer pastures of the mountains." He winks then he continues "They have been using of the beer but I am Muslim and do not drink of the alcohol. You can smell my breath." He gives a huffing breath towards the sentry. It must have been powerful as Abu had just eaten about a half pound of fermented goat cheese.

The checkpoint officer jerked himself backwards from the acrid gust of breath, blinking and waving a hand in front of his face, "You're telling me!? I could smell your breath from France!" he gasped. This caused the soldiers sitting by one of the IFVs to look over, curiously.

The officer continued, "Remember, the city of Schroeberg is currently closed, so you'll have to go back the way you came once you've finished chasing reindeer or whatever it is you're doing up here."

The officer took another look at the shabby, unwashed vehicle, "I'll need to see your passports, and your driver's license." he added, and extended a mittened hand.

The one thing El-Cosa-Nazi does well is forged documents. Abu produces a birth certificate from Iran, Naturalized Citizenship papers from Indian Casino Operator, a green card for Nimzonia allowing Abu to work in Nimzonia and a Commercial Drivers License from Nimzonia.

Mike and L. W. fumble around trying to find their paper work, knocking beer bottles around and dropping their plastic hats. They finally produce MadderMikian passports with entry and exit stamps from Germany, Norway, and Western Scotland. Each passport has an entry stamp from Port Odea very smudged and faint as if the customs officer didn't want to waste ink.

All of the paperwork has the requisite coffee stains, folds, rust spots around paper clips, and barely readable official stamps.

While the officer is looking at the paperwork Abu says while shivering "Your country is a wonderous place with much of this glorious snow everywhere. I have a cousin that is looking to marry a strong Nimzonian are you married?"

He continues "The Schroeberg city, I have not been there. Are they having a festival, is that why they are closed? I have heard they are going to serve whale blubber, I have never tasted such a meal. Can I get a pass to go eat this wonderous feast? Allah did not prohibit whale meat, I think it would be ok to eat it. Have you had this whale meat, is it tasty? Have I asked if you are married?"

The officer took the wealth of documentation, briefly glancing through it; it seems he was more interested in seeing that IDs were present, than actually checking their authenticity. Seeming to be a fairly serious sort, he ignored most of Abu's questions, and handed the papers back.

"Schroeberg is off limits, while we are searching for a group of dangerous fugitives. If you try to enter the city, you'll be turned away. If you see anyone suspicious on the road ahead, don't slow down for them; report it to the next checkpoint."

He stepped back from the vehicle, and made a sweeping gesture with one hand to indicate to Abu that he should move along, while speaking into his radio. The IFVs blocking the road reversed slightly, to open up a gap for the van to pass through.

Abu inched his way past the IFVs. He said "I really do have a cousin that wants to get married. She should marry that guy. They could go 10 years without saying a word to each other.

The snow continues to fall and the wind picks up. after traveling about 25 kilometers Lt Fawkes says "Slow down we are getting close to Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn's house." They creep along the road lights off and Abu spots a narrow lane leading off to the west.

They take the side road and as they round a bend Abu comes to a quick stop. The road is completely washed out with a 300 foot drop to certain death marked only with two little cones. Abu is able to turn around and they figure they are only about a kilometer from the house.

They get out and load up their gear from the back of the van. They have arctic camos, bilnoulars, night vision goggles and infra-red detectors, two different sniper rifles a US Marine Corps M40A1 and a Weatherby TTF chambered for .300 weatherby. They have automatic weapons mostly MP5/10 chambered for 10mm. They pack up anti-personnel grenades, smoke grenades, satchel bombs and UHF comm equipment.

They cut some branches off a gnarled spruce tree and erase evidence of them turning off the main road.

It takes them two hours to work their way up to a vantage point above Col. Dagfinnur Stefannsonn's house. They settle in among the rocks and examine the house.

LT Fawkes "The place is crawling with security. That fat jerk must think something is up, either that or he is afraid of those GELFs.

They study the patrol pattern and establish the weaknesses. One guard is half asleep sitting on a large boulder overlooking a steep drop into a ravine. He has a huge parka and thick mittens. L.W says "There is no way that guy will be able to get off any shot in time."

The Fawkes team has been observing the Col.s house for about an hour and a half and come to the conclusion that the Col is not going to be visable for a sniper shot. There are six guards outside and unknown inside.

By watching the rotation they realize there are only two extra guards that go outside. There will be more inside. There have been times when all eight are outside at the same time. L. W. and Abu figure they can knock out two each before anyone knows something is up. They decide to split up so they can cover more area, with LT Fawkes getting in close on the opposite side of the house from the sniping positions. By the time they figure out where the snipers are Fawkes will be at their backs and with the suppressed Desert Eagles that should be the end.

They begin moving to their positions.

Snipers come in many varieties, some work to get the perfect shot allowing for difficult conditions, wind, rain, darkness... some just like to kill, for others it is the hunt, they like to get as close as they can or even let the victim know it is coming. L.W. was the latter, he liked the hunt, to him inching 1,000 yards in an afernoon for the best shot was the skill part of sniping. He chose the M40A1, He was working around the back of the rocky outcrop where Abu set up his position. L.W. was disappointed that this would be a hack job. Bang, bang, all over. He thought maybe he could get in just the right position and kill two with one shot. Now he wishes he had picked the Weatherby. That baby could kick but what power.

Abu was the "perfect shot" type of sniper. He was not as good as L.W. and was always trying to prove he was better. He tried to get every one of his shots into the victim's left eye but stopped that when one shot went into the eye and out the side and the victim lived. He now tried for the exact middle of the forehead. He really didn't like the Weatherby because of the recoil but in this wind he needed the heavier 180 grain bullet.

Fawkes was neither type, he was a get the job done kind of guy. If someone or something was in the way it got eliminated or ran over. His SEAL training gave him a proficiency in all kinds of weapons and he used them all. A shot in the back, a throat cut, pushed over a cliff, he really didn't care. He was ruthless. The challenge of the job and of course money was his motivation. Like Red he used the money to enjoy the good life. He hated the Navy for booting him just because he was gay.

Fawkes was actually better at slinking about the countryside then either L.W. or Abu. He arrived at his position before L.W. and sent a terse "~Ready~" on the UHF comm link.

"Sgt. see those Nimzonians, there blocking are path" said one of the special bomb squad.
"Well, take them out, men get into surprise positions, NOW!" he said into the com and a load of yes,sir" replied. There was some movement but nobody would notice. "There seem to be grunt" he muttered to him self.
Them bomb team set up two motors.
"Three, ....two,.... ...one FIRE!!!!"
Machine guns started firing taking them totally by surprise, the motors opened fired hitting many nearby buildings. They needed to get past here quick.

L.W. followed by Abu quickly reply "~Ready~" LT Fawkes answers "~GO~"

L.W. thinks that Abu is going to try and get more than L.W. so he sets up at least three good shots and he fires first, one down, he lines up on his second shot and watches as Abu takes the targets head off with the .300 Weatherby. "Damn" L.W. exclaims and takes out his third choice. The security guards are alerted and have taken cover they are looking for the snipers when Abu takes out another.

Fawkes sees three guards down quickly and then another. He moves forward and the hasty plan has worked. The remaining four guards have their back to him looking for the snipers. They are firing randomly at any percieved targets when Fawkes pops up and takes them out too quick for any of them to respond.

"~Move in~" Fawkes calmly says into the comm gear. He quickly moves to the front door, an elaborate wooden door with beautiful carvings of the Nimzonian countryside engraved into each of the four panels. He aims the .50 cal Desert Eagle at the door lock and fires two rounds into the mechanism. The door swings slowly inward.

Fawkes is joined by L.W. and Abu, they are carrying their sniper rifles on slings and they are armed with the MP5/10s. They methodically move from room to room making sure there is nothing or no one blocking them. In the basement they find a locked metal door probably leading to a safe room.

Fawkes loads two satchel bombs next to the door and L.W. and Abu surround them with mattresses pulled from the various bedrooms throughout the house. All three move to another room as Fawkes sets a short timer.

The force of the explosion is somewhat muffled by the mattresses. They pull the ruined material away from the bent and twisted door. There is enough damage to pry the door open. With weapons ready they step inside a well prepared safe room there is a trap door open in the floor of the room leading to darkness below. Fawkes drops two concussion grenades down the hole.

Pulling out maglite flashlights they go down to the next level. There is another door partially ajar. Carefully they open the door and find a very fat blubbering Col Dagfinnur Stefannsonn fumbling with the magazine to an AK47. He looks up and pleads for mercy. He finds none.

Fawkes, Abu, and L.W. collect the bodies and put them in the center of the great room in the middle of the house. They coat the bodies with gasoline and set a small timed incendary device to ignite the impromptu funeral pyre. The move to the garage where there is a large Mercedes, two Land Rovers, a 50 gal barrel full of gasoline several gas cans and the objects of their search two four wheeled ATVs.

They are loading up the gas cans to take back to the van when LT Fawkes gets a call on his sky pager. It is a long message in code. It takes him twenty minutes to decode it and the fire is due to start in fifteen more. He is not happy with the contents of the coded message.

The message gives him the co-ordinates of the safe house in Schroeberg where they are to pick up more GELFs and assorted other escaped members of the Quisling group. He is pissed, they should have more supplies and more time to plan this out. The van is useless and now they will have to move cross country to get close to Schroeberg. Thank God for small miracles the ATVs are perfect for this task.

In their search of the house they found two hand held GPS monitors, along with food and more maps. As they leave the house snow is falling in almost blizzard conditions. Abu swears, cursing the people that settled in this place so far north that it is snowing in April.

Fawkes is not optimistic about their chances crossing 35 miles of mostly uncharted territory. They take one last look back at the house where flames are starting to appear in the windows.

OCC: I have talked to madder mike and he says its OK.
IC:
The man a strong but cleaver man named Jack had been spying for years, since he was a kid. He had never done anything this big before, he had never faced death, yeah the odd prison sentence, but death that was enough matter. He knew all this because he had read up on the 'Nazi' group and he knew what they would do.
He had note picked up much information yet but he went forward to this man, he didn't know his name.
"Sir, I hear something about more GELFs and where can you give me a desecration and some coordinates?".

Outskirts of Schroeberg

The troops manning the south-west checkpoint were taken completely by surprise, by the sudden, ferocious attack. A few troops fell before they even knew what was happening, and the rest, who managed to react in time, dived behind vehicles, walls, and any other cover that was available. A hastily constructed machinegun nest by the roadside opened fire briefly in the general direction of the assault, before being silenced by mortars.

"What the hell!?" A square-jawed sergeant yelled in surprise, as bullets tore chunks out of the wall beside him, showering him with bits of brick and plaster, "By the sound of it, there's a whole damn army out there!" he covered his head, as a mortar shell exploded nearby. He turned to the cowering squad of conscripts, most of whom were eighteen or nineteen, and barely out of training, "Heads down!" another shell burst against a building across the street. The sergeant reached out for the radio he dropped in his surprise with a mittened hand, and pulled it to his mouth, "This is four platoon, Bravo company, under heavy fire! Requesting urgent backup!"

-----

Colonel Skreien was sitting in the Mayor's office, when he heard the gunfire begin outside, "What the..." he ran to the window, and looked out across town. He couldn't see the firefight from where he was, but he could see smoke rising from the southwest. He left the mayor with a surprised look on his face, and ran outside to where his senior sergeant-major was waiting with a few APCs, and the colonel's car.

"Bravo company is coming under fire on the south-west highway." the command NCO reported, "They're requesting backup."

"Send Delta company with their IFVs, and get some air support down there!" Skreien jumped into his car, yelling over his shoulder, before turning to his driver, "Get me to the command post, quickly!"

-----

Back at the checkpoint, the remnants of four platoon were pulling back, with Mattvian machinegun and mortar fire biting at their heels. The Sergeant darted round a corner and put his back to the wall, and made frantic 'hurry up' gestures, as the rest of his squad dived round after him. He looked round, and saw a pair of Infantry fighting vehicles coming up the street, with a squad of troops.

"What took you?" he yelled, "And where's our air cover?"

"Apaches are on their way," the commander of the lead IFV responded, "Now what the hell are we up against?"

"Damned if I know." the sergeant shrugged, "They blew the crap out of the checkpoint, and we lost lieutenant Zakariassen. Machineguns and a few mortars, so far. No idea on numbers."

The commander nodded and turned to the troops on foot, "Set up here, and stay sharp." he glanced up at a nearby tall building, "Get a machinegun up on that roof, and see if you can spot anything. We'll hold them here until the air support arrives, and then see what they do." he disappeared back into the vehicle, pulling the hatch closed behind him.

"This is the leader of the operation 9784 can you get here now" he said he knew re-reinforcements would come, he needed more he had already got a small (hand held) missile launcher here it command it to fire at the light infantry trucks. Then he heard the sound of air support.
"Men, stop get down don't move or you will get fired at, GET down and use your damn camouflage!"

A missile streaked up the road, and took the turret clean off one of the armoured vehicles. The rest of the IFVs responded immediately, by scattering clusters of smoke grenades, to hinder the laser-guidance of any further missiles. The troops moved into nearby buildings, and attempted to return fire from windows and doorways, although they still hadn't made positive visual contact with their attackers. Other soldiers attempted to hurry civilians out of the combat zone, although this was proving difficult, since a few zealous local militiamen wanted to break out their dusty old M14s, and join in the fight, and were hindering the military effort more than aiding it.

Apache attack helicopters swept round from the southeast and northwest, operating in groups of two. Initially they had difficulty spotting the Mattvians, but then they switched to thermal imaging; it would be hard for men to hide their heat signatures against the freezing ground. As the helicopters began to engage targets with their autocannons, the IFVs broke out from their smoke cloud, adding their 30mm cannon fire to the mix.

LT Fawkes and crew stopped the two ATVs on a small rise to get a view of Schroeberg. Suddenly the sky lights up in the unmistakable flashes and delayed sounds of a firefight.

Abu "Mother of God what is going on over there?"

Lt Fawkes "That, Abu is our ticket into the city. I don't know who is attacking who but you can bet your arm that the Nimzonian army is over there and not over here.

They proceed to the outskirts of the city and find a convenient hiding place for the ATVs and mark it with the handheld GPS.

They move quickly from building to building making progress towards the center of the city and the safe house where the GELFs are supposed to be.

Number of dead: 13.
"This is team 6,7 and 8 we are ready for help" someone said over the intercom.
"Do you have any anti-aircraft weapons?" Sgt Major Griffin Kiln asked as a missile came so close.
"We have 6 anti-air rockets, why?" he said. This was getting annoying.
"Shoot at those bloody helicopters!" Kiln shouted. As soon as 5 minutes had gone 3 went up heading for the helicopters.
"Men shoot at those old men and civilian then set mines and go back to a much more defensive position and make sure those IFVs come into them." Kiln had to speak slowly and loudly because of the noise.
Short blast were fired then the mines they ran back to an area they had just been to a few trees.

***Michaelgrad Eyewitless News Broadcast***
Mike Squarejaw "A group calling itself El-Cosa-Nazi has claimed responsibility for the explosion to MadderMikian government offices. They say they are an international consortium dedicated to the furtherment of the Arryan race. They want to install Arryan leaders in governments around the LETI/LOTI regions and other as yet unnamed regions."

Michelle Blondgoodface "Well, there you have it folks. Another faceless, group claiming to have caused havoc in Government affairs when the explosion was probably sewer gas."

Mike Squarejaw "There you have it, remember you heard it here first. Our motto "Not necessarily the most accurate reporting but entertaining." Back to our regularly scheduled program from Featherstones America "Everyone Loves the White Family!""

LT Fawkes and crew made their way into the central part of the city. They set up an observation post in an apparently unoccupied house a half a block away from the safe house.

L.W. is using the thermal imaging scanner and Abu is using night vision goggles.

L.W. "LT there is no one in the safe house but there is a lot of people in the gray house across the street."

Abu "LT there is another house on the opposite side that has many people in it too."

LT Fawkes "Damn, someone has compromized the safe house. I told Red there was a spy in El-Cosa-Nazi. Can you tell who is who. I suspect the GELFs are in one house and probably the Nimzonian army or secret police in the other."

Abu "It is very difficult to tell maybe L.W. can tell which group has the most weapons."

Commander of the spy operation (to find were the safe hoses were etc) walked along the street, he took out his map and saw the bravo point just in the house, he walked casually back to his teams hide out.
"Men I've found it we will go there in a few hours get your urban kit on, we will attack from the roof to the back, ok?" he didn't want an answer. He knew they would be spotted by the people, so they wouldn't come, but that was a safe house off the list and they would be stuck having to take the root that they might get captured.
were on the roof he gave the order and they went down, they stayed suspended in mid-air placing to breaching charges on to the window. They got there guns out push away, exploded the bombs and got in gun blazing they went all though the rooms they found traces of this being a safe house, after they stooped they rested for a while they would stay here. They ringed the place with explosives if they had to it would destroy the near-by houses.

Commander of the spy operation (to find were the safe hoses were etc) walked along the street, he took out his map and saw the bravo point just in the house, he walked casually back to his teams hide out.
"Men I've found it we will go there in a few hours get your urban kit on, we will attack from the roof to the back, ok?" he didn't want an answer. He knew they would be spotted by the people, so they wouldn't come, but that was a safe house off the list and they would be stuck having to take the root that they might get captured.
were on the roof he gave the order and they went down, they stayed suspended in mid-air placing to breaching charges on to the window. They got there guns out push away, exploded the bombs and got in gun blazing they went all though the rooms they found traces of this being a safe house, after they stooped they rested for a while they would stay here. They ringed the place with explosives if they had to it would destroy the near-by houses.

Commander of the spy operation (to find were the safe hoses were etc) walked along the street, he took out his map and saw the bravo point just in the house, he walked casually back to his teams hide out.
"Men I've found it we will go there in a few hours get your urban kit on, we will attack from the roof to the back, ok?" he didn't want an answer. He knew they would be spotted by the people, so they wouldn't come, but that was a safe house off the list and they would be stuck having to take the root that they might get captured.
were on the roof he gave the order and they went down, they stayed suspended in mid-air placing to breaching charges on to the window. They got there guns out push away, exploded the bombs and got in gun blazing they went all though the rooms they found traces of this being a safe house, after they stooped they rested for a while they would stay here. They ringed the place with explosives if they had to it would destroy the near-by houses.

<taged>

due to relevance to LETI/LOTI and for good reference of "Everybody Loves the White Family"

Outskirts of Schroeberg

The Apaches scattered like a flock of geese, as the Mattvian troops returned fire. One chopper lost its rear propellor, spinning out of control, before exploding against the ground nearby. They had, however, done their job of distracting and pinning down the Mattvian forces, until the ground troops could respond. A number of IFVs were now rolling out across the frosty ground, supporting the infantry. Machinegun posts and mortars on the roofs of outlying buildings began to open fire, raining fragmentation rounds and 7.62mm fire down on the suspected enemy positions. The captain of Bravo company, at an observation post in the rear, reported to Colonel Skreien over the radio, "Looks like we've got the situation under control now, sir."


Schroeberg inner city

The safehouse was in a fairly run down area, the kind of place where gangs engage in running firefights with each other and the police, and the odd disappearance here or there would not cause much controversy. The usual street thugs, however, were nowhere to be seen, possibly due to the recent military presence in the city. Since practically everybody and their uncle had a safe house in this area, almost every other building seemed to contain large groups of nervous men armed to the teeth. Mostly, though, they were armed with shotguns, small automatic weapons like Mac 10s or TEC-9s, and ridiculously oversized revolvers. In only one house, were the occupants armed with military grade assault rifles.

0002_RSD had managed to procure the house across the street from the original El-Cosa-Nazi safe house; the building's previous occupier was currently in the basement, suffering from a GELF-inflicted broken neck. Ytterhus would be suffering the same, 0002_RSD considered, if he didn't shut up soon.

The man had pulled himself together somewhat since their initial breakout, but since the shooting had started on the edge of town, he had gone to pieces again, and was now sobbing to himself in the corner. He had dropped his gun earlier, and it had gone off, almost hitting one of the GELFs. 0002_RSD had almost been prepared to shoot him then, considering how valuable the GELFs were.

There was another series of explosions, and acompanying machinegun fire, from a distance away. At this point, Ytterhus broke down completely, and ran for the door, wailing, "I can't take this any more!"

0002_RSD was slow to react, and Ytterhus was through the door before he could shout or draw his gun. He glanced to one of the GELFs, "Kill him, quickly!"

The GELF ran to the door, and took a quick glance up and down the street; there were currently no military patrols in this area, although Ytterhus was running in a panicked manner along the middle of the street, flailing his arms, and generally likely to attract too much attention if he was allowed to continue. The GELF raised his assault rifle, aimed for a second or two, and fired a single shot, putting a bullet straight through the fleeing technician's brain. He hurried out and dragged Ytterhus quickly and efficiently back into the house, and shut the door.

0002_RSD glanced at the body, which was wearing a slightly surprised look, "Well, good riddance. He'd better not have attracted any attention; things are bad enough as it is."

Abu had been watching the streets around the El-Cosa-Nazi safe house and concluded there was at least 3 other groups besides themselves. He whispers to LT Fawkes "This place is crawling with armed camps. It is almost as bad as MadderMike." As he is talking to the LT L.W. spots the GELF take out the blubbering scientist. In a barely audible voice he says into the comm gear "I think we found them sir, right across the street."

LT Fawkes "Why are they in the wrong house? Well they probably got suprised at the last house and are taking no chances. " He takes a laser sight off one of the massive Desert Eagles and has L.W. shine it in one of the windows where the GELFs are.

Fawkes "Flash morse code and tell them who we are and where we are. Tell them we will give them more information in a moment. "

L.W says "Won't the other groups be able to see the laser beam?"

Fawkes "You idiot you can only see the spot. The only place you can see the laser beam is in movies. If those GELFs are as smart as they are supposed to be they will figure it out in short order. "

The men in the safe house were getting bored nobody had come, and they had done there job stooped the GELFs getting to this safe house. So they agreed that they must blow it up, there would be an giant explosion destroying most of the houses down the road.
"Come on" somebody said, they ran far, from the blast and.... KABOOM there was a giant explosion they could see other peoples lifeless body's nobody could of escaped. They started humming the Mattvian national anthem.
Then went back to there cave.
_____________________________________________________
SUPER TRADE HQ.
The head of super trade (forgotten his name) picked up the phone "Hello, Nimzonia this is head of super trade. I'd like to make a deal with you, if you capture the GELFs you can give them to us, to kill and experiment with. So what do you think?
________________________________________________________
The Mattvians were returning fire, another rocket was fired at one of the vehicles, they were nearly on the mines, just a little bit nearer. They had a plan if they keep destroying they will have to come over, but the only way was though the mines.

Government offices, Koenberg

Getting through to the Nimzonian government is hard enough for high-ranking civil servants, let alone a foreign corporate boss. The Super Trade leader gets a recorded message.

"You have reached the Nimzonian Government offices! Unfortunately, a telephone operator is not available to take your call. If you have an offshore account with the Nimzonian government, please press #, followed by your account number. Otherwise, you may wish to select from the following options.

Press 1, if you wish to make a donation to the government.

Press 2, if you would like to report an invasion of our beloved homeland.

Press 3, if you would like to recieve a copy of our friendly information pack, 'Big brother and you'.

Press 4, if you would like to report a spy, saboteur, escaped POW, or some other variety of suspicious foreigner

Press 5, if you wish to make a donation to the government

Press 6, if you wish to open diplomatic relations with the government of Nimzonia.

Press 7, if you would like to be put on hold.

Press any other key if you would like to hear the list again."


Outskirts of Schroeberg

The Nimzonian troops didn't discover the mines, until an IFV rolled over one of them, shattering its tracks, and rendering it immobile. The rest of the armour group halted its advance, and fired off more smoke grenades, to cover them from missile fire until a way through could be found.

A radio operator at the command post was arguing with the captain of Bravo company, "We've given you armour support, air support, mortar support... you want sappers now too? Quit whining, and do some real soldiering!" the radio operator yelled, and took another sip from his pink gin, "Your troops are taught how to clear mines! Get on it, and don't ask again, until your men have managed to blow themselves up!"

As the IFVs were again cloaked with smoke, firing the occasional burst from out of their cloud towards the last known enemy positions, the Apaches swooped back in, firing clusters of high-explosive anti-personnel warheads at the targets that their thermal imaging showed up.


Schroeberg, inner city

They dumped Ytterhus in the basement, with the equally deceased former resident of the house, and returned to the street-facing living room to wait for something to happen. 0002_RSD helped himself to some of the cheap malt whiskey apparently favoured by the previous occupant, and sat back in a threadbare armchair.

Suddenly, the GELFs leapt into defensive positions, crouching against the wall, or behind tables or chairs, weapons ready. 0002_RSD didn't know what had got them worked up, but he was prepared to trust their intuition, and hid behind his chair.

There was a period of silence; 0002_RSD glanced to one of the GELFs, who nodded towards a flickering red dot on the wall. After a few moments, one of the GELFs took a pad of paper and a biro from beside the telephone, and began to write. She tore the sheet off, and passed it to 0002_RSD.

"I knew Ytterhus would draw attention." the scientist muttered, "Just as well it was the right kind of attention. Tell them we copy, and will stand by for further information."

Another of the GELFs removed the laser sight from the barrel of his rifle, and aimed it at the house across the street, which was evidently the source of the laser, and began to signal the response.

The big boss pressed 4, well it was on GELFs who were like POWs. He tapped his fingers on the desk. And waited.
__________________________________________
Helicopters were heard again, Sgt Major Kiln, ordered everyone back to the nearby woods, were they had got a small artillery piece with them. God knows how they got it there.
On there way back they put anti-miners mine, which were mines that couldn't be detected.
______________________________________________
The men in there cave were having a small dinner they needed to contact there spy.

L.W. sees the red spot on the wall and copies the morse code message. He reports to LT Fawkes.

Fawkes "Good, tell them the safe house is surrounded by at least two other hostile groups. Ask if they have checked out the basement we may be able to get through that way if not we are going to have to cause a diversion. " He continues "Tell them we are working on an escape scenario. Tell them about the fire fight on the edge of the city we may be able to use that to our advantage. Ask them about their weapons status."

OOC: Mattvia, which house did you blow up? This is modern tech, no undetectable mines, difficult to detect plastic mines, ok, but sniffers will be able to detect the explosives.

Koenberg, Government offices

The recorded answerphone continued, "You have chosen to report a spy, saboteur, escaped POW, or other suspicious foreigner. An operator will speak to you shortly. You have been added to the queue. There are currently Nine. Million. Four. hundred. Fifty. three. thousand. seven. hundred. sixty. three. other callers waiting. Your call should be answered in roughly Twenty. Eight. Years. Please be patient."

The recorded message was replaced by a scratchy rendition of Greensleeves.


Outskirts of Schroeberg

As the troops of Bravo Company and Delta Company cautiously attempted to find and disarm the anti-vehicle mines, the squadron of Apaches continued to engage the enemy. This became more difficult, as they retreated into the woods.

Colonel Skreien crushed a 7up can in his hand, at the thought of having to fight a guerilla war in the forests of Nordreijk; he wasn't very happy, until the command sergeant-major pointed out that it'd be "Just like our own Nam, but colder, and with less friendly fire."

He contacted the Wing commander at the nearest air force base, and requested a squadron or so of JAS-39s to dump some real ordnance onto the woods, justifying the destruction with a reminder that if there's one thing that Nimzonia has lots of, it's frozen useless forest, that will probably get flattened in search of oil and raw materials in the next decade anyway.


Schroeberg inner city

The GELFs quickly counted their supplies, before one responded, reporting that between the five of them, they had five RSA4 assault rifles, with about 200 rounds altogether, and a couple of Browning HP-35 9mm pistols with one magazine each. The basement is just a small underground room full of junk and a sizeable still. 0002_RSD has a message sent asking if the mercenaries have a coherent plan for escaping the city undetected.

At that point, an APC rumbled up the street, with a few nervous soldiers riding on top. The hatch dropped, and a small squad of seven or eight filed out, heading for the house next door to the one currently occupied by 0002_RSD and the GELFs.

OOC: Mattvia, which house did you blow up? This is modern tech, no undetectable mines, difficult to detect plastic mines, ok, but sniffers will be able to detect the explosives.

I don't know can someone tell me where we all are, I don't have a clue were anybody is.
Ok, there plastic bombs or something, but I saw thing which says you can get them.

"Men, retreat, back to base 895 bring anything and everything" Kiln ordered them, then he dropped the smoke grenades and and tear gas grenades and let them go off, putting his gas mask on he put mines all around.
_____________________________________
"Oh, bloody hell" the boss muttered, he put the phone down and this time pressed 2. "This should get there bloody attention." He waited.

I don't know can someone tell me where we all are, I don't have a clue were anybody is.


OOC: Go back and read through the thread, if you're lost. There's a map on the first page (assuming my image host hasn't gone down). I've been announcing changes of scene in bold at the top of my posts (for the most part, anyway).

Currently, there's 005_CMD, and a group of GELFs and agents leaving Vaadenbruk for point bravo, wherever that turns out to be.

There's 0002_RSD and a group of GELFs hiding out in Schroeberg, which is currently under martial law, and your people are attacking the army just outside the city.

Vaadenbruk

Red Ghormely and crew arrive at Point Bravo, which is an abandoned
school bus repair shed. It has ten large garage doors designed to
allow school buses to drive into the repair garage and close behind
them. This setup permits repairs to be completed inside away from the
brutal Nimzonian winters.

They pull up in the large tour bus with the loud pssst from the air
brakes. PFC Lorenzo Mullanio inches the bus towards the third door
from the left and PFC Clyde Mulholland jumps out to open the rusty
door. Clyde easily defeats the padlock and opens the access door and
goes inside. There is no-one there yet as they are about 30 minutes
early. Clyde works the chains to lift the door and winces at the
amount of noise it generates.

Lorenzo moves the bus closer and both he and Clyde realize the door is
about 2 inches too low. Clyde pulls on the chain again but it won't
budge. Red and Olga step off the bus and assess the situation. Red
grabs two AK47s and by stretching on their toes manage to push the door
up with the gun butts. Lorenzo carefully moves the bus inside and
Clyde closes the door.

Clyde and Olga search the place and find a tool safe in the back of the
office space. Everything else seems to be empty but the locked tool
safe is out of place. Lorenzo takes a look and judges it to be
relatively easy to crack.

After only about five minutes they hear a satisfying mechanical clunk
and the safe opens. Inside are some handheld GPS positioning devices,
three more AK47s, 1,000 rounds of ammo and 18 concussion grenades.
There are more maps a cheap laptop computer, an even cheaper digital
camera and an unbelievably cheap color printer. A small printed
document says "Make your own passport". It is glued to a box of 23
Norwegian passports with the picture page sliced open to allow someone to slide in a new picture with height, weight, and name.

Red looks at the assembled goods and says "Someone did their homework, I hope those guys get here soon."


Schroeberg inner city

Fawkes looks down at some noise in the street and sees
An APC pull up and the rear hatch dropped offloading a small squad
of seven or eight nervous soldiers, heading for the house he was
in.

Fawkes says into the comm link "Party time" He opens up on the
soldiers with several bursts from the MP5/10. Abu and L.W. take
defensive positions near windows. Fawkes again curses the lack of
supplies for this operation. If he had any grenades left he could have
take the little squad out with little or no resistance.

As a MadderMikian, Fawkes thought there was nothing better than a
little fire fight. As had happened in the past with Fawkes the mission
took second place to the joys of a gun battle.


OOC: Mattvia sometimes in longer threads (This one is headed there) I
set up a word document to put all of the players and locations into.
It makes it easier to refer to then trying to page back through the
forum.

Schroeberg, inner city

If anything, the Nimzonian soldiers were expecting their quarry to run, rather than fight, and the point man was somewhat surprised when he received the first burst in a diagonal line from right shoulder to left temple. He fell, twitching, and the other troops dived for any cover they could find, parked cars, fire hydrants, each other, to avoid the same fate.

There was much shouting and confusion, and then one of the soldiers on the roof of the APC manning the .50 cal machinegun opened fire on the front of the building, smashing the windows, and blasting off chunks of brickwork. The rest of the Nimzonians began to return fire on Fawkes and his squad too, but thankfully, their aim was typical of most heavily-armed extras.

The sudden explosion of action on the street seemed to be too much for the various shady types in their safe houses and armed camps, and seven or eight houses along the length of the road errupted with armed men, pouring onto the street in search of their cars and other means of escape, firing their motley assortment of weapons at the army, each other, and anything else that looked remotely threatening, adding a general note of complete chaos to the scene.

The GELFs watched from their window fairly nonchalently. 0002_RSD wasn't showing many signs of nervousness himself. He looked out at the APC.

"That APC is our ticket out of here." he noted, "We'll worry about our El-Cosa-Nazi friends when the army is taken care of."

Two of the GELFs smashed the front windows with the butts of their rifles, and began to take potshots at the troops outside, who weren't covered from an attack from that quarter. The other two, accompanied by 0002_RSD, moved to the front door.

The Nimzonian troops, attacked from so many angles, by so many unexpected agressors, were in something of a disarray. However, not having the same supply problems as Fawkes' squad, a few of them hurled grenades at the safe house, attempting to get them in through the smashed up windows.


Vaadenbruk, point Bravo

The first members of 005_CMD's squad, a pair of roughly wardrobe-shaped men in their 'inconspicuous' clothing, and dark glasses, made their way along a backstreet towards the old bus garage. One was wearing denim, and a leather jacket, and the other was wearing a sweater, bearing the legend "Jesus saves! The rest of you take d6 damage!", althogh he didn't look much like the sort of person who would get that kind of joke, with his bullet head and square jaw.

They made sure their handguns were readily available, in case this turned out to be a trap, before one knocked loudly on the side door, with a ham-like fist.


Koenberg, government offices

The answerphone message continues:

"You have chosen to report an invasion of our beloved homeland.

Press 1, if you are a pensioner, or a member of the political right.

Press 2, if you are a representative of the invading forces, and would like to begin negotiation.

Press 3, if you would like to report an illegal immigrant.

Press 4, if your call does not fall into any of these categories."


Outside Schroeberg

The advance of Nimzonian armour had more or less halted, while troops attempted to sweep for mines. An explosion and a muffled yell indicated that someone had found one by accident. The captain, at his observation post, continued to harrass the radio operator at the command post, to send them some engineers.

A pair of JAS-39 fighters from the nearby airbase, soared high overhead, examining the area below, through their bombsights.

"I can see our IFVs." the flight-leader's wingman reported, "There weren't any enemy vehicles, were there?"

"Not according to reports. Those are definitely ours, though. There shouldn't be any of our troops further forward than that."

"Hey, is that smoke coming from the trees? Yeah, looks like a smoke grenade or something..."

"I don't remember asking anyone to mark the target. Oh well..."

The flight leader conferred with the squadron leader back at the airbase, whose response was a vague "Sounds like a mark. Frag it, and we'll see what's left."

The JAS-39s turned away from the smoke plume, and arced back in, diving to get a better run at the target. They dropped their precision bombs into the woods, and pulled away.

Schroeberg, inner city

The .50 cal machine gun was tearing up huge chunks of the windows, plaster and the brick outer wall. Several pieces of mortar, bits of brick and plasterboard wound up imbedding in Fawkes face. He moved away from that window and moved to the next room.

As he moved to the next room the first room exploded in a blast from an anti-personnel grenade. More shrapnel as buried in Fawkes back. Fawkes looked out the window in this room and came face-to-face with a young Nimzonian soldier. Fawkes fired a long burst at the window as he collapsed on the floor.

L.W. was shooting anything that moved and that wasn't in the building where the GELFs were. One of the many rounds flying through the air hit him in the stomach. "Gut shot" he managed to say into the comm link before passing out.

Abu had emptied his MP5/10 of the last magazine he had available and had switched to the 300 Weatherby. With deadly accuracy he was taking people down one by one. Unfortunately the people being taken out were the common thugs and members of the armed camps milling about he street.

Vaadenbruk, Point Bravo

Lorenzo and Red covered the door as Olga opened it just a crack. "Who are you looking for?" she asked. As she looked the two over she thought to herself "These have got to be the ones we are looking for. They are so out of place how are we ever going to fool anyone."

Point Bravo

Neither of the Black Ops agents looked like the kind of people who were hired for their competence. First impressions would indicate that their main skills included Blocking Doorways, Lifting Heavy Things, and Busting Kneecaps. They looked like the kind of people who thought it was cool to put on dark glasses and pretend to be agents, without appreciating any of the fineries.

As the door opened a crack, the man who had knocked cast a furtive glance around, and then leaned in towards the door. "I know some kids who want to see Lizard Tongue. I hear you're running a tour."


Schroeberg, inner city

Most of the criminals and thugs had got to their vehicles by now, and screeched off, swerving wildly across the street, and still shooting at each other from the windows.

The .50 cal fell silent, as one of the GELFs picked off the gunner, and the rest of the Nimzonian squad was pretty rapidly dealt with, under attack from so many angles. 0002_RSD and the GELFs rushed out towards the APC when the coast appeared to be clear, one of the Aryans climbing in the back, and hauling out the driver before it occurred to him to drive away.

0002_RSD looked at the smashed up house, and at the carnage up and down the street. Ammunition casing of all shapes and sizes littered the street, and there were at least twenty bodies, some still groaning and twitching. A broad selection of discarded weapons were scattered about as well; aside from the Nimzonian RSA4 rifles (a fairly ordinary 5.56mm weapon, of bullpup configuration), 12 gauge shotguns, and the odd TEC 9, there were a few silver revolvers that were probably .50 caliber, and looked like a piece of drainpipe with a pistol grip. There was what appeared to be a 19th century hunting rifle, held in a deathgrip by a dead thug apparently of Indian Casino Operator descent. There was even a discarded RPK machinegun, with a huge 150 round magazine that was so long it curved right round underneath the barrel.

0002_RSD lifted an engraved, golden pistol from the dead fingers of a stocky gentleman in an italian suit and a fur coat. The GELFs were scavenging grenades, ammunition, and any other undamaged equipment from the dead Nimzonian soldiers. The youngest of the GELFs, who looked to be about twelve or thirteen, discarded his rifle in favour of the smaller submachinegun carried by the APC driver.

Satisfied that his group was now fully tooled up, 0002_RSD turned back to look at the house that they had been communicating with moments earlier.

"Well?" he asked the house, "Are you still alive?"

Schroeberg, inner city


Abu looked around and discovered there was no more shooting, he moved over to Fawkes, felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one. He took Fawkes' MP5/10 and two extra magazines. He grabbed the sky pager, the world wide cell phone, the small book of one use code pages, both of the handheld GPS monitors, and a Mistress Credit Card. He looked over at L.W. and there was lots of blood on the floor surrounding his compatriot.

Abu swung the Weatherby over his shoulder on the sling picked up another magazine for the MP5/10 from L.W. and moved towards the door riddled with bullet holes. The door was barely together and hung at an odd angle. Abu heard a voice "Well? Are you still alive?"

Abu touched the door and it fell off its hinges with a clatter, he answered, "Still alive, only one of us able to travel." He stepped out of the house and examined the group and their commandeered APC. "How many of you are there" he asked. This was going to be even more difficult than Fawkes had predicted.

Point Bravo

Olga answered "This would be the place, come in." She opened the door and stepped back to get out of the line of fire if necessary.

Red asked in a quiet voice "Who is your tour director?" never letting his AK47 waver from being aimed at the center mass of the biggest of the two.

Point Bravo

The agents remained on the outside of the door, in case they had to run for it. The apparent leader glanced down the barrel of Red's AK-47, "Five-CMD, of course. And might I ask who is running this tour for him?"


Schroeberg, inner city

0002_RSD regarded Abu for a moment, as one might examine something on the sole of one's boot. He flared his nostrils for a moment, and then cleared his throat.

"Five of us. Unless you have a better plan of escape, I would reccomend we use this Personnel carrier; with all the chaos round here, nobody will pay much attention to another army vehicle driving around."

He glanced down the road, where the vehicles full of armed men had gone. One car was now upside-down in a tree, but three more were still swerving across the street, ramming each other, and firing their still not-inconsiderable arsenals at each other.

"I think that lot should be a sufficient diversion." he commented.

The GELFs stood ready by the APC, having taken the best of any discarded equipment. 0002_RSD turned back to Abu, "How many of you are there? We need to bring any wounded or dead you might have with us, or at least make sure the authorities don't find them, and discover your identities."

Man Jayen National News Network Broadcast

The Northern Chieften of Man Jayen Erik Staffanson announces a mutual protection pact with MadderMike. In exchange for protection MadderMike has agreed to construct a joint Naval Base south of Jayen City. Maddermike Naval forces will have full use of these facililities.

Construction has begun with supplies and construction workers from the Frod construction conglomerate. The main feature of the base will be underground submarine repair-refit facilities with an underwater entrance.

s/ Chief Erik Staffanson

The Northern Chieften of Man Jayen Erik Staffanson announces a mutual protection pact with MadderMike. In exchange for protection MadderMike has agreed to construct a joint Naval Base south of Jayen City. Maddermike Naval forces will have full use of these facililities.

OOC: Ow... if Man Jayen is where I think it is, then I foresee armed conflict at some point in the future :D

Port St. Lucie, West Palm Beach (LOTI region)

The Kilo class sub, owned by the Greater Corporation of West Palm Test Flights (the largest seller of mercenary goods in the "country"), is preping for departure. Having been hired by Jim Frod, of the E-C-N corporation, the sub, GCWPTFS Bovine Growth Hormone (named in loving memory of it's current captains original job as a subsidary farmer) is getting outfitted for it's inagural mission.

Captain Mateo Bautista: Ay! Ay! Careful with those MK-48 torpedos! I want those stowed in the aft room!

Bautista, who worked his way through naval school as a rancher on a nearby corporate owned cattle farm, is confident in his men's ability to perform their job. Having read the recently declassified works on CoC submarine tactics, and working onboard a Manarthian Ohio class sub as an observer for half a year, he is as well trained as any man in the GCWPTF navy, which is to say mediocre at best.

Bautista: No no no! Ammunition goes there, food goes there! I don't want a kitchen fire turning into a sunken submarine!

Soon, the ship was ready to go, and began to head through the St. Lawrence river, with a heading towards Greenland.

Bautista awaited eagerly contact with his temporary employer. Already his crew had been payed from the cash sent to the corporation, and most had already blown it in the Seaman Salery poker tournament held the night before. Ensign Gonzales, however, was $20,000 richer, and was in a chipper mood as he manned the sonar.

Gonzales: Lt. Commander? We've got what looks like a whaleing vessile nearby.

Bautista: Never mind it. We may be hired by a Maddermikian, but I'll be darned if we're being paid to mark targets for his countrymen. Let it be.

They continue on their heading, awaiting orders from their contact.

I am pulling out of this RP, to many people, lost were I am and everyone else is, see ya ( all forces are airlifted out). 8)

Abu replied to 0002_RSD's question "There was three of us, the other two are inside alive for now but probably not for long. If we leave them here the Nimzonians will try to patch them up and waste time questioning them.

Just then the sky pager went off, it was another long message in code. Abu figured out which code page to use and was slowly decoding the message. He knew it would take him a lot longer to decode this than Fawkes would. With a stroke of pure dumb luck, not planning, Abu motioned to the youngest GELF and said "Can you help me with this?"

The young GELF looked at the message and the one use code page, took the Palm Pilot stylus from Abu and in 30 seconds decoded the entire message.

[code:1:68199ca020] Proceed to an isolated beach Lon..... Lat...... to the north east of Khorlingasbad. Submarine will pick you up in exactly one week at 0230 on the ...../s E-C-N[/code:1:68199ca020]

Abu looked at his maps and cursed "That is about 110 miles away how do those idiots think we are going to travel there, in a stretch limo?"

Koenberg

Jim Frod was drafting a message to his contact in West Palm Beach[code:1:68199ca020]Encryption Foxtrot Umpire Charle Kilo Have submarine proceed to an isolated beach Lon..... Lat...... to the north east of Khorlingasbad, Secure beach for pick up 0230 on the .... proceed north to Man Jayen naval base to drop off passengers.[/code:1:68199ca020]

OOC: Left date blank to allow for forum problems and to let things percolate.

I am pulling out of this RP, to many people, lost were I am and everyone else is, see ya ( all forces are airlifted out). 8)

OOC: No worries. Sorry it didn't work out.

IC:

Schroeberg

0002_RSD shrugged, "We have a week. That's long enough to cover the distance on foot, if we have to, wounded and all. It's also a hell of a long time to hide out with the whole army out looking for us, but we'll deal with that when the time comes."

He glanced down the street again. There was the occasional distant clatter of gunfire, intersperced with the odd explosion, but things were starting to get a bit quieter.

"We need to hurry up and move out before they work out what's going on."

The first group of mobile SAM launchers from MadderMike were arriving at the newly constructed long runway south of Jayen City. The C5s and some C141s were taxiing to a stop at a hastily built hanger area. A squadron of F16s had just landed and were being moved to more hanger areas.

A huge oil tanker was moored to an offshore pumping bouy. It was pumping on a rotating basis jet fuel, diesel fuel, and heating oil. A newly constructed fuel farm was accepting the petroleum products.

Everywhere you looked there was someone in a Frod Construction Company worksuit and hard hat. Mixed among the construction workers were men and women in the MadderMikian Airforce winter uniforms.

OOC: I appologize for the inconsistancies in my first post. Buatista's official rank within the navy is that of Senior VP of Bovine Growth Hormone Operations. "Ensign" Gonzales' title is Manager of Sonar Operations. For ease, they will be called by their approximate US rank, that of Lt. Commander and Ensign respectively

50 Miles off the coast of Nimzonia

The sub was holding off of the Nimzonian coast, awaiting futher orders, when it recieved a sattelite phonecall from a Council of Clan civilian source.

Man on other end: Hello Bautista! It's Ricky. You won't believe it! I was at Indian Casino Opperator and put everything I had on (Latitude/ Longitute) and won! I'm meeting with some investors in the CoC now, but I'll be back in Palm Beach Gardens on the (Date). Well that's about it, I'll talk to you when you get back.

Bautista: Did you get that, Mercato?

Junior VP of Sub Opperations (Lt. Senoir Grade) Tomás Mercato: I sure as hell did. Well, we certainly won't want to keep our friend waiting.

Bautista: Okay, let's do it then. Sounds like the meeting date is today. Let's close to one mile out, load the zodiacs and secure the beach head.

Junior VP of Ground Engagements (Marine Captain) Paul O'Malley: Fine. We're on it.

The sub procedes toward the coordinates, and one mile out, releases the two small Zodiac. The ten men aboard them use the cover of night to move towards the coast, arriving around 0435 local time. They fan out, as two of them deflate the rafts and hide the shortened boats in some holes they'd dug. Manager of Fire Team Hybiscus (SSGT) Carl Salieri confers with Captain O'Malley.

Salieri: We've encountered nobody here yet on foot. A few cars passed by on the neaby road, but I doubt anyone saw us either land or set up possitions. We should be okay here until ECN Corp arrives.

O'Malley: Well, that's good. Carry on.

OOC: Compostion for the group includes as follows

Fire Team Clematis
Junior VP O'Malley - Leader - MP-5/SD
Demo - MP-5/SD, M-136
Soldier - MP-5/SD
Soldier - MP-5/SD

Fire Team Hybiscus
Manager Salieri - Leader - MP-5/SD
Demo - MP-5/SD, LAW
Assault - M-35(OICW)/SD
Soldier - MP-5SD

Attached Support
Machine Gunner - M-249, M-9/SD pistol
Sniper - M-98, Colt-1911 pistol

Near Khorlingasbad

Abu and 0002_RSD's crew are now walking having abondoned the APC long ago. It did allow them to escape the city. Abu is cursing the cold, cursing the fact he is walking cursing riding on a submarine, cursing the fact the GELFs don't say much. He is unhappy and wants everyone to know it.

They are nearing the beachhead and Abu swears his feet are like bricks. Abu is consulting the handheld GPS monitors and knows they are near the rendezvous point. Unknown to Abu the monitors were placed in the Col.s house by the long dead Mattvian spy. It is transmitting its location back to a satellite, uncoded and unscrambled. The downlink frequencies were left among all the gear the Mattvian insurgency group abandoned in their hurried evacuation.

OOC: Now the manure hits the rotary cooling device.

Schroeberg, military command post

Colonel Skreien was not having a good day. The battle on the southwest side of town seemed to have cleared up, although there were still a few mines scattered around, that bomb squads were dealing with. They hadn't managed to take any prisoners, which was annoying, and the bodies that had been recovered had no identifying marks on them. A whole load of equipment had been brought in, and was being analysed, but there were no results in yet.

Then there were the problems in the inner city; apparently some gangland animosities that had been boiling away for years, had suddenly come to the fore during the confusion, and half the city had been alight with criminal firefights. Thankfully, most of those had been suppressed, but he'd lost quite a few men. Almost three platoons, all told, and several vehicles that he would probably get his ear shouted off for.
Now Colonel Lierfall's brigade was being sent in to help restore order to the city, and Skreien was beginning to feel like the carpet was being pulled out from under his feet.

The sergeant-major approached Skreien's desk, and saluted.

"Sir, a couple of prisoners have been taken at one of the suspected Quisling safe-house sites. Looks like there was quite a firefight there - someone wiped out a whole squad of our boys. The prisoners are recieving medical attention, at the moment, but we should have them talking in a few hours."

"Hmmm..." Skreien muttered, "Not quick enough. I think I'm losing my grip on the situation here."

Just then, another soldier came hurrying in, "Colonel, we think we've found something! From the GPS units we captured, we've managed to locate another on the western highway, heading to Khorlingasbad."

Colonel Skreien jumped to his feet, "What? Show me!"

The soldier led Skreien back to the makeshift lab where the captured equipment was undergoing forensic examination. Some facilities of the local police stations had been taken over, and a few tents had been put up in the courtyard outside. A few computers were set up in the corner, with one of the captured GPS monitors attached.

The screen was showing a map of northern Nimzonia, with a few blips on it. Most were located in Schroeberg, but another blip was flashing on the northwest highway.

"Those must be our fugitives." Skreien muttered, "I'm not letting them slip through my fingers again!"

He quickly rounded up a couple of platoons, and some Lynx transport choppers, deciding to lead the party himself. He contacted the army base at Khorlingasbad, and requested a roadblock be set up on the highway.


Near Khorlingasbad

Despite being cripplingly cold to anyone not used to the northern climate, and not wearing some serious insulation, the northwest highway was relatively quiet; a light sprinkling of snow was starting to fall, and it was still fairly light, despite being nearly midnight. A large group of local teenagers were nonetheless playing hockey on a frozen lake, or as they are more commonly known in Norhtern Nimzonia 'big flat chunks of ice', since the temperature rarely rises high enough for the ice to melt.

There was a barely perceptible glint of light in the distant gloom, through the twilight and snowfall, but even so, it spurred a flurry of rapid hand signals between the GELFs, who promptly dived behind a nearby snowdrift. 0002_RSD was quick to take the hint, and ducked down next to them. One of the GELFs peered through a pair of binoculars stolen from some Nimzonian soldier.

"What is it?" 0002_RSD asked.

"Ambush on the road ahead." one GELF responded.

"Snipers off to the side." another added.

"I don't think they've seen us." said another.

"This gets better and better." 0002_RSD muttered, and glanced down to the frozen lake, where the game of hockey appeared to be continuing regardless of the falling snow, its participants apparently unaware of what was transpiring on the road above. Idiots, 0002_RSD thought. He'd always been excluded from hockey games, as a child, on account of being short and having a runny nose. One day I'll show them! he'd thought at the time, One day I'll show them all!!.

"How many can you see?"

"Three armoured vehicles." the GELF with the binoculars reported, "At least seven troops on foot. Four snipers; could be more."

Near Korlingasbad

Manager Salieri spotted the Nimzonian squad half a second before they spotted him. That being said, all he had time to do is leap behind a log and give a brief squeak of suprise before the woods near the extraction zone was filled with the noise of gunfire.

When JVP O'Malley heard the sounds of weapons discharging, he hit the ground. The fact that they weren't exactly near him didn't make much of a difference.

O'Malley: ::Into his radio:: Salieri? Hybiscus squad? Do you copy?

Salieri: ::Over the radio:: We've got contacts. It looks like they've been waiting for our friends. We're pinned down here and... Sh** they got Tim! ::Dimly the sound of a rocket being fired can be heard:: No! Don't waste those! What if they have armor?! Listen, we need support here now!

O'Malley: Okay, help is on the way. You three! Get to Hybiscus and assist them. ::He pauses and thinks it out:: Try to get in behind them if you can. I think they have casualties, so bring any back to the EZ that can move, and have the mobile ones carry those that can't.

Near Khorlingasbad

When Abu heard the words "Snipers" he was on full alert. There was nothing more challenging then sniping a sniper. He pulled the .300 Weatherby off his shoulder and reduced the magnification on the scope from 16x to 4x allowing more light to enter. Even in the dim midnight twilight he was able to spot the ambush. That the GELFs had spotted it without the assistance of a scope was truly amazing.

Abu loaded a round into the Weatherby and started looking for his first target. He thought about the flash from muzzle if he shot. The Weatherby had a good muzzle flash suppressor but the noise suppressor was long gone. Abu had probably spent too much time around the MadderMikian Fawkes because he was just looking to kill with the "Perfect Shot".

The shot was about 1,000 yards, right at Abu's limit but the air was fairly still and the light snow gave an excellent indication of wind speed and direction. Abu carefully lined up the shot and slowly squeezed the trigger. His training had conditioned him to lower his pulse rate and he timed the shot to go off between heartbeats. The huge Weatherby roared and the bullet was on its way.

Point Bravo

As more of 005's group arrive Red moves them to the back where Olga and Lorenzo are taking pictures, printing them and inserting them into the prepared Norwegian passports.

When they come back into the main garage area Red has them seal the inserted pictures with super glue and then instructs them to spill beer, wine or a bit of motor oil on the passports and step on them to grind the dirt and liquid into the pages. They are then instructed to wipe them off and bend them up, wrinkle them and make them look worn.

Clyde then sits them down and tries to teach them to look and act stoned. It will be the only way to get past checkpoints. He realizes the clothes are for the most part out of place. He instructs the group to rip holes in the knees, drag each other around sitting on their pants, shirts and coats. He rubs more motor oil into their clothes. The GELFs though quick studies can't help trying to make things neat again. Finally he tells them this is camouflage for the up coming operation and everything falls into place.

Point Bravo

005_CMD was, of course, the last to arrive, and the scene that greeted him apparently wasn't entirely to his liking - most of the agents were quite happy to throw each other around and make a mess of their clothes, although in a few cases this was getting a bit out of hand. He focused his glare on two agents in particular, who appeared to be having a thinly-disguised punch up, and raised an eyebrow. The two stopped at once, wiping their hands on their now somewhat scruffy clothes.

Fortunately, cannabis was perfectly legal in Nimzonia, ever since the government realised that if the population were a bunch of potheads, they would be unlikely to be able to organise any kind of revolt. The only real trouble with disguising the GELFs as a bunch of stoners, was that they seemed to be possessed of an almost instinctive vigilance, a tendency to be constantly assessing their surroundings, and their sharp, piercing eyes looked anything but stoned. There was also the problem that a few of the GELFs looked slightly too young to pass as potheads in any case, so something else would have to be done with them.

Not all of the Quisling agents were complete meatheads, either. A few looked somewhat competant, and there was one who was even creepier than the GELFs, and probably wouldn't make a very effective stoner either.


Near Khorlingasbad

The troops manning the roadside ambush were immediately distracted by the WPB fire team, and scramble around to get different cover. A white-painted and snow-capped IFV reversed slightly, to get a better firing angle for its 30mm cannon.

Four snipers, covered by white parkas and half-buried in the snow off to the left of the ambush point, turned to assess the attack from nearly the opposite direction they were expecting. They hauled their light-fifties around, and began readjusting their sights for the new enemies in the woods. The area was already filled with the sound of gunfire, and the boom of the Weatherby was largely indistinguishable from all the other noise. When the snow suddenly glittered with blood, and one of the snipers slumped forwards, they were looking in completely the wrong direction for the hostile sniper.

Making use of the distraction, 0002_RSD and the GELFs crept forwards, moving from snowdrift to snowdrift, to get close enough to bring their own weapons to bear.

Near Khorlingasbad

Tim Jenkins was dead, the demo guy was pinned down, and the third member of Hybiscus was in a fetal possition behind a bush, crying for his mother. None of them were any use at all for Salieri, who was crawling beneith some snowed up bushes, trying to find an enemy soldier to fire on.

Suddenly, he spied a flash of light coming from the trees to the right. Fireing his suppressed MP-5SD, he let loose a short burst of fire, and was rewarded by a scream. Whether or not he'd hit anyone, he couldn't tell.

He counted at least 3 enemies in the area, and the rumble of combustion engines suggested many more.

Meanwhile, the three members detached to assist Hybiscus were making their way to flank the group attacking thier allies. They ran out into a clearing, and right into a clearing, near the Nimzonians and GELFs. Hitting the ground, the sniper scanned the area for any enemy activity while the machinegunner continued to run, with a soldier right behind him. Before he could be shot, they ducked behind a snowbank, and tripped over Abu.

They look down at the man, dressed in civilian cloathing, armed with a large sniper rifle.

Soldier: You must be from the ECN corp. We're here to get you home.

Near Khorlingasbad

Abu was lining up on the next sniper when someone tripped over him. The newcomer said the sweetest music to his ears when he said You must be from the ECN corp. We're here to get you home.

Abu replied "Praise Allah, you have arrived." He pointed to 0002_RSD and the GELFs and said "Those strange looking guys are the "packages" we have for delivery."

Point Bravo

Red spots 005_CMD and recognizes him as the leader, he walks over to him and says "We have a small problem we only have 23 Norwegian Passports. Do you think the rest of these guys will pass as Nimzonians on the tour with the Norwegians? We can make up some fake looking papers and hope it is dark when the authorities check them. If you have any ID's on you, we might be able to doctor them up a little to pass a checkpoint."

Red then called 005_CMD over to a quiet corner "The pothead thing will work for some of these guys but these GELFs look like they are expecting WWIII to breakout. They look like bodyguards, if we could get someone to act like some instant celebrity they are supposed to be protecting we might pull it off."

Red looked at the gathered group and spotted a baby-faced Quisling scientist. "Do you think that guy could pass as Justin Timberdoodle?" If you could get the GELFs and that wierd looking guy to keep saying Yes, Mister Timberdoodle it might work."

OOC: Justin Timberdoodle? :lol: :lol: :lol:

Point Bravo

005_CMD glanced back at the GELFs. "Well, they weren't designed or trained to be subtle; these have been extensively trained in many fields, but there's a limit to how subtle you can get with an army of six-foot, blue-eyed blondes; they don't exactly blend in a crowd. These were designed to spearhead El-Cosa-Nazi's Aryan Revolution, and act as visible symbols of nazi power or whatever your superiors were going on about when they gave us this project."

He turned to the group of agents and scientists sitting around the garage. One of the scientists, who already looked like a bit of a stoner before they'd even arrived, had produced a joint from somewhere about his person, and was now proceeding to further enhance his disguise.

"Hand over any IDs you have on you." 005_CMD ordered the agents. A number of Nimzonian driver's licenses, passports, and standard ID cards were produced, all of which were stolen identities anyway; of the hundreds of people Quisling Black Ops had murdered over the last two decades, a large number had been executed solely for the purpose of assuming their identities.

005_CMD inspected the scientest pointed out by Red. "Hmmm... I'm not familiar with Justin Timberdoodle, so I'll have to take your word for it. You! Lanstrom!" he beckoned the man over, "Ever heard of Justin Timberdoodle?"

The scientist identified as Lanstrom rolled his eyes, "Not another one! I keep telling people, I refuse to believe I look like that motherfu-"

"Alright, shut up!" 005_CMD cut him off, "Yes will do. You are now Justin Timberdoodle, understand? And these-" he indicated the creepy-looking agent, and the six eldest GELFs, "are your bodyguards."

The scientist huffed discontentedly, but didn't disagree. The six GELFs came and stood next to him, which unnerved him enough that he stayed quiet.

005_CMD regarded the five youngest GELFs, aged twelve to fifteen, and turned back to Red, "I suppose we could just distribute the rest of them around the bus, and hope that the checkpoint officers don't make too thorough a search. I think they'll just check our IDs, and have a brief glance inside the bus to count heads. They won't come round and psychoanalyse everyone."

OOC:A three smiley salute! *takes a deep bow*

IC:Point Bravo

Red looks at the assorted IDs and has Olga doctor some up for the younger GELFs, finds a black watch cap and jams it on "Justin Timberdoodle's" head. Red gathers up the rest of his crew and they load the bus, making sure the younger GELFs are scattered about.

Red checks the pot smoker to see if he has anymore and tells him to save it for the checkpoints. He wants the smell to permeate the bus. Lorenzo takes all of the equipment and dumps it into the sewer with a bit of a crash.


Red knows the GELFs are proficient in small arms and has 005_CMD divvy up the cache of weapons. He hopes it doesn't come down to a firefight to get out of the country. Red grabs Olga and they push the garage door open enough to get the bus out and climb on.

They ease down the quiet midnight streets, the only sounds are the windshield wipers ticking back and forth in the light snow.

Near Khorlingasbad

Suddenly Salieri was on the other side of the firefight, having crawled his way through the enemy squad.

Salieri: How the hell did I do that?

Looking around, he spies a soldier laying on the ground, dressed all in white, and holding a high powered sniper rifle. Salieri looked in the direction the sniper was facing, and saw two other members of his group, and what he assumed was one of the ECN people. Then the sniper opened fire.

Not even looking to see who, if anything, the sniper hit, Salieri let lose a concentrated burst of fire at the sniper. And, to make sure he was dead, charged his possition with his gun at ready.

Meanwhile, the machinegunner who had tripped over Abu watched in horror as his friend took a high caliber bullet to the head.

Machinegunner: Son of a bitch!

Looking around, he still can't see the sniper, nor can he figure out where the shot originated from. Ducking, he hopes Abu knows what to do.

Also, the sniper that had arrived with the machinegunner and soldier spied the flash of the opposing sniper. He turned to look, and saw Salieri running out of concelement. Ignoring that sniper, he continued to search for targets.

Finally, O'Malley is franticly calling for a non-submerged pickup.

O'Malley: Listen, we need you to come in on the surface so we can get back to the ship in decent time. Come towards the beach, we've got the zodiacs inflated again, we just need to get the survivors aboard.

Bautista: Okay, we'll meet you there, but don't be too long. The important thing to remember her is stealth.

Near Khorlingasbad

The snowfall increased in intensity, further reducing visibility, and increasing the chaos factor tenfold. The Nimzonian troops were having difficulty telling friend from foe in the near blizzard conditions.

The sniper was taken by surprise by Salieri's assault, and was hit several times before he even realised what was going on. As Salieri broke from cover, to make sure of the kill, another sniper, previously unseen, erupted from the snow nearby, firing his Browning 9mm sidearm at the WPB mercenary, the range being far to close for a .50 sniper rifle.

The GELFs seemed less bothered by the reduced visibility, but even they were having trouble picking out targets. 0002_RSD turned back to Abu and the machinegunner, "We have nothing to take out the vehicles with; we need to get the hell out of here, before they work out what's going on. Do you have a clear route back to the exit point?"

In between the sporadic bursts of gunfire, a new sound became audible; the distant thwop-thwop of helicoptor rotors, although it was rapidly getting nearer.

On the lead helicopter, Colonel Skreien was leaning over the pilot's shoulder. Visibility was terrible - although they could just about make out the treeline, and the flashes of gunfire, telling who was who seemed to be impossible.

"Hit the spotlight, and keep searching." Skreien ordered, "We're right on top of the GPS co-ordinates - they're down there somewhere!"


Vaadenbruk

All was fairly quiet in Vaadenbruk; although army presence around the port was heavy, most of the streets were fairly clear - at least, outside the city centre.

The mood on the bus was quiet and subdued - nobody was saying anything. For the most part, the agents fidgeted around with their weapons, or chewed their nails, or made some other nervous gestures. 0021_SEC occasionally got up and stomped up and down the centre of the bus, giving everyone dirty looks. 005_CMD, by contrast, lay back in his seat, and appeared to be having a snooze.

The agents had brought a few kitbags with them, some containing clothes, but others contained weapons, and one appeared to be full of some kind of drugs - pills of some description, and some kind of liquid and syringes. None of them looked recognisable as any narcotic; one bottle was labelled 'Genesis 3'. The weapons were mostly H&K models - USPs and UMPs, in .45 ACP. Although the UMPs were shiny and new, a few of the agents were grumbling about how their G36s had been too big to fit in the bags, and were happy to swap them for AK47s instead.

The GELFs, of course, just sat stock still in their seats, staring blankly forwards, occasionally flicking a glance left and right to re-assess the situation, but generally acting more like machines than people. It was all the more eerie in the closer quarters on the bus, where everyone else was engaged in some kind of nervous activity.

A few of the GELFs, though, and only the youngest two or three, appeared to deviate slightly from this statuesque behaviour. After ten minutes or so on the road, they started to look out the window, not at anything in particular, it seemed, but just to watch the city go by outside. As the bus moved out of town, and passed the towering old Vaadenbruk Palace, which dated back to the reign of King Hakon II in the 14th century, one of them leaned forward slightly, to get a better look, pressing up against the window, and watching the building until it was out of sight. A few of the agents and scientists craned over to watch the majestic palace go by as well, but it was about the most human thing any of the GELFs had done so far.

The pothead scientist seemed to have an endless amount of marijuana inside his tweed jacket, and had skinned up another joint after half an hour or so. He toked away by himself for a while, before squinting at Red and offering the joint, slurring "'ave a bang on that."

Ahead on the road, just before it joined the highway, a squad of soldiers were manning a checkpoint, which seemed to be the main entry/exit checkpoint from Vaadenbruk to the east.

In Koenberg

Jim Frod was pacing the floor "Where is that idiot Fawkes, I have been calling on the satellite phone and the SkyPager, he probably forgot to charge the batteries." He turns to Hess and asks "What is going on we are in the middle of things and still can't find anything out."

Hess is trying to calm him down but Jim wants to get into the action. though born in Nimzonia, he is MadderMikian through and through. He straps on two H&K 9mm, tucks a .45 APC into his belt, hooks two .25 semis one on each ankle. And just for insurance puts a quick snap derringer device on his left forearm loaded with a .22 pepper shot 4 barreled derringer.

Jim walks down to the garage of the safe house and starts up the C320 AWD Mercedes and backs out of the driveway. Cursing the snow he careens down the street with his lights off. This was accomplished by a crudely installed toggle switch drilled into the dashboard.

He is headed to Point Bravo not knowing that the group is long gone.

E-C-N Corporation has just set up on a rocky spit of land 30 miles off the coast of West Palm Beach. The only structure on the Island is an 18th century chateau built by the French during the fur wars in the early 1700s. There is a very modern pier with fuel, electric, steam and potable water hookups.

No matter what the population stats say the real population is stable at 1,500 people give or take a few operatives. They all live in the chateau or the underground training facilities.

The amount of antennas on the island is impressive.

Near Khorlingasbad

As Salieri felt the 9mm bullets impact his chest, he realized how exposed he was. His Type 2 tactical body armor was good enough to stop such small arms fire, but he wasn't prepared for quite so many accurate shots in such rapid succession. As the bullets continued slaming home, Salieri found his movement foward halted, and then felt himself falling. Lying on the ground, flat on his back, he labored to breath. He could feal his ribs broken, and perhapes one of them, or a particularly unlucky bullet, puncturing his lung. He would have passed out, but he had too much adrenaline to be more than dimly aware of the pain.

The machinegunner had heard rather than seen the helicopter rotating above them, and found his place to strike out after the recent death of his compatriot. Locating what seemed to be a searchlight, he poured his 100 round box magazine into it, trying in ernest to do some damage to the only enemy of which he was aware.

Meanwhile, the sniper that had been sitting in wait had seen the muzzle flash. He lined up his M-98 at what he assumed was the head of the opposing sniper, and opened fire. Quickly, he picket up his rifle and ran for new cover, farther back from the clearing.

Within the woods, the rest of Salieri's squad had been over run. Two were dead, one killed near the begining of the firefight, the other going the heroic route upon finding his hiding spot overrun. The final soldier was bleeding, unconsious with wounds to the right sholder and leg.

O'Malley wasn't having much better luck. His squad of two other soldiers were sitting around guarding the newly inflated zodiacs, and he despirately wanted to leave.

O'Malley: Salieri? Salieri! Do you copy? Does anyone copy on this frequency. ECN troops? Do you copy? All soldiers, do you copy?

The sniper heard the radio call, and paused to watch the machinegunner fire wildly into the air.

Sniper: I copy. We've found the ECN survivors. We'll start moving back now. Salieri is dead. I'd say his squad is too. Helicopters are inbound.

O'Malley: Copy that. I'm coming foward to asist in rearguard action.

O'Malley grabbed the LAW from his demo soldier and slung it over his back.

O'Malley: You two stay here and get ready to shove off. I'll be back with our package in a bit.

It was a cold Monday morning, in the towns of Harsh, Lackitz and Mar, all these towns had a super trade building, of some importance. It had been two hours since military intelligence, had cracked the code, of Super Trade, everything had been in these codes, messages about the GELFs, and a new political party of Super Trade, would put all humans in "camps" and have a world of clones ( :lol: ).
It was coming up to 5:00am MT, and early workers where about to start there work, when all around these towns, police sirens could be heard, now most people would think so, but Mattvia had one of the best police in the world. And the speakers started saying "This is a police raid, get off the road and make it clear, try to stay were you are!!". Police cars were zooming everywhere they all pulled up at the Super Trade buildings. A man with a speaker said "Workers of Super Trade, come out with your hands up" police moved in using all the entrances and exits to get them. Most people came out and were taken to the police stations, some areas needed back ups.
This was a very successful raid, but it wasn't the mega one, that was Candon, Super Trades' HQ. The same happened police, seekers, but this was were the small army and maybe clones were. A few hit squad of MSAF (Mattvia Special Assault Force). They burst into the windows and the doors, most of the workers were out in the police vans, but the scientists said no and they were supported by there army.
After many hours of fighting the special forces were winning the day. They blasted there way though fires had started and fire engines were rushing to the seen as well as ambulances. As they moved forward into this one area there were more and more men, placing good explosives they blasted the door and easily caught the head of Super Trade he was taken away and they day was done. Now the Mattvian government had to sort things out with Nimzonia and they could be a great help with the dirt they have on Madder Mike. The reason troops were pulled out was by the Mattvian government, not Super Trade, the soldiers were then court Marshalled and sworn into the Mattvian air force or army. Most people didn't care about what was happening there, they just called an excuse for attention, there were only one kind supporters to Mattvia joining totally was the radical government supporters they wanted the GELFs but only to destroy and torture them!

DUDE 8)

OOC:Nice closure Matt :D

Abu motioned again to the GELFs to come with him, on the odd chance they could read lips he mouthed "The submarine extraction is over here."

There were bullets and schrapnel flying everywhere, Abu felt two hot spots on his legs but kept going following the WPB merc. He was worried about the helicopter closing in on them. He picked up the Weatherby and as he moved towards the beach spotted a shape moving towards him from the direction of the original Nimzonian force. He did a quick snap shot hoping he hit something.

Near Khorlingasbad

The lead chopper veered away as the WPB mercenary opened fire, raking its underside, but apparently causing no serious damage. Colonel Skreien urged the pilot to find somewhere to put down, so they could move out. A few soldiers opened fire from the door of the second chopper, further hacking up the snow, and succeeded in hitting one of the GELFs in the shoulder. The GELF, without a sound, slung his rifle over his good shoulder, drew a handgun, and continued, as though nothing had happened. 0002_RSD cast a look back at the helicopters, and hurried after Abu with the GELFs close behind him.

The sniper re-clipped his pistol, and stood over Salieri, aiming his pistol between the WPB mercenary's eyes. A shot rang out, but it was the sniper who was hurled over backwards, the Browning HP going spinning off into the snow unfired.

A couple of helicopters circled over the woods, still, as the first two landed, offloading Skreien and the first couple of squads near the original ambush force. Skreien quickly conferred with the senior surviving officer, a sergeant, and assumed command of all the present forces. Skreien directed his men to move out, and shoot anyone not wearing a Nimzonian uniform.

So Nimzonia, what do you say ?

Near Khorlingasbad

Salieri looked up at the sniper standing over him with dread in his eyes. As the shot rang out, he passed out, expecting death to claim him. It didn't, for the moment, though being unconsious was preferable to being in so much pain.

O'Malley spied the helicopter putting down as he ran out from cover. He could see the machinegunner, the GELFs, the sniper and Abu running back towards the boat. He hefted his LAW and pointed it towards where the helicopter was headed.

O'Malley: Everybody down!

The machinegunner, and sniper hit the dirt as O'Malley opens fire with his rocket. The LAW streaks over their head and heads toward the helicopter.

The machinegunner and sniper scrambled to their feet once more, and ran with O'Malley towards the beachhead.

Meanwhile, the two remaining soldiers had pushed the rafts into the water, and primed the engins. As the survivors ran towards the rafts, the two soldiers waved them in.

The sub Bovine Growth Hormone broke surface about the same time as the sun rose above the horizon, just three miles out off of Nimzonia.

We will give military support in Nimzonia.

Near Khorlingasbad

As Abu was running across the rocky shoreline the Nimzonians call a beach, he saw the rocket pass overhead. He shouted "Take that you infidels" Apparently someone was listening and he felt something hot strike his leg then it was wet. His leg didn't seem to work as well as it did just moments ago. He held onto the wounded GELF and fell into the waiting zodiac.

Vaadenbruk

Red directed the driver of the bus to be careful to exceed the speed limit by about 8kph the way most Nimzonian buses traveled. They began to hit the winding mountainous roads headed towards Valnir. Olga was monitoring military frequencies and there was definitely something going on to the west. Hopefully that will hold the interest of any checkpoint guards.

OOC: Apologies all, but what with college and work, when I do get some time to post, my brain is a bit too fried to come up with anything coherent... Things should be a bit slower by next weekend, and hopefully I'll be able to organise my thoughts to write a decent post by then.

Near Khorlingasbad

One of the helicopters hovering over the woods abruptly burst in a shower of sparks and molten fragments, as the rocket hit it dead on. THe fleeing GELFs, heading towards the escape zodiacs, managed to look momentarily ungainly, as they awkwardly hopped out of the path of the tail rotor, which had come spinning off in their direction. 0002_RSD turned to look at the explosion, tripped, and fell flat on his face, apparently knocking himself out. One of the GELFs scooped him up, and hurried the rest of the distance to the zodiacs.

As the surviving mercenaries and Quisling personnel were scrambling to their getaway craft, Colonel Skreien was leading his troops through the woods. As they reached the edge of the treeline, they caught sight of the fugitives, and began to open fire on the boats.

Meanwhile, back at the ambush point, a small squad was sorting out the mess left by the gunfight. There were dead and wounded everywhere, the fighting having been frantic as expected. There was further hindrance, in the form of the large mob of teenagers who had been playing hockey on the frozen lake, who, rather than fleeing from the area as any sensible people would, had come to have a look. A few soldiers were walking around, checking bodies, first the dead snipers, then heading over towards Salieri.


Nimzonian Government Statement to Mattvia

The Nimzonian army is more than capable of handling any military operations on Nimzonian soil. Currently, we do not need the added complications of more foreign armed units operating within our borders.

On the raft, near Korlingasbad

As the rafts begin to float away, the Nimzonian troops on the beach open fire. As two mercs fire up the engines, the remaining 3 open fire on the beach, trying to give some semblence of cover. One of the two rafts, hit with bullets, begins to deflate.

Out to sea

The Bovine Growth Hormone spies the fire coming from the beach, and races towards the rafts.

At the battlesite

Salieri is unconsious.

On the coast, Near Khorlingasbad

The Nimzonian troops on the shore were gaining morale, as they began to realise how few enemies yet remained. The water frothed up around the rafts, as bullets came close to their mark. As one raft began to deflate, the two GELFs on board decided to bail out and head for the other raft. At that point, one was struck in the chest by a stray round, and he toppled off into the water. After a few seconds, he emerged, apparently unconcered, and began to swim to the other raft, where he immediately passed out. The other GELF, calm headed even under the volume of fire that was heading their way, checked his pulse, examined the wound, and with a slight nod that seemed to indicated 'He'll live', turned back to continue firing on the beach.

0002_RSD was still unconscious in the bottom of the final raft, but the GELFs still seemed unphased by all this; in fact it almost seemed like they were waiting for something. Abruptly, a series of explosions burst across the shoreline, throwing Nimzonian troops and fragments of tree into the air. One of the GELFs betrayed a slight look of satisfaction, a slight raising of one corner of the mouth.

Colonel Skreien threw himself to the ground, as a flame-shrouded soldier hurtled over his head.

"What the..."

He looked out across the sea, at the retreating raft. There wasn't much fire coming from the beach anymore. Most of the remainder of his squad were keeping their heads down.

Skreien seized a discarded rifle from the ground beside him, and began to open fire on the rafts, in a last bid to stop them. Five rounds splashed into the water nearby, before the magazine ran out.

"*!?/@!*" he smashed the rifle against a tree in frustration.

At the battlesite

One of the soldiers reached down to check Salieri's pulse.

"Sarge, we've got a live one here!"

"Get him on his feet!"

A couple of troops seized Salieri by the shoulders, and began to haul him over to where the main body of troops were gathered around the vehicles.

*Tag*

On the tour bus

005_CMD was really beginning to get annoyed by the way Justin Timberdoodle kept fidgeting constantly. The technician was seated behind him, with his appointed bodyguards, and was constantly shuffling about, apparently unable to sit still for more than two minutes.

Eventually, 005_CMD turned round and snapped at him, "Will you sit still!? I've had enough of your constant fidgeting. Either sit still, or I'll shoot you myself."

"I can't help it!" protested Timberdoodle, "I really need to take a leak! Can't we stop at the next service station or something?"

005_CMD was fuming, "What the hell do you think this is, a happy summer holiday!? We're the country's number one fugitives right now! Shut up and sit still!"

"Awww!" the technician protested, "But I really need to go! Come on, it'll only take me, like, two minutes!"

005_CMD gritted his teeth, and bit back the tirade that he wanted to unleash on the miserable little man, in favour of preserving his dignity. He let out an irritated sigh, and called to the front of the bus, "Driver, for Odin's sake, stop at the next gas station, before this whining little cretin wears out my patience."

----

Meanwhile, the weather was starting to get worse; summer in Nimzonia is only marginally warmer than winter in most countries, and temperatures could easily plunge well below zero at night. The roads were beginning to clog up with snow and ice, and on the highway ahead of Jim Frod, the traffic was starting to get dense and slow, due either to an accident, or some car getting stuck in the snow.

On the road to Valnir

The bus driver spots a gas station ahead and begins to slow down, as it is a long downhill slope he uses the Jake engine compression Brake rather then totally relying on the brakes. This tactic works very well on dry pavement, or even wet pavement but icy patches are always a problem. The is was a real problem for the bus driver, Lorenzo, he had never driven a bus in the snow and ice.

The rear of the bus tried to overtake the front, Lorenzo worked hard to keep it under control but he sideswiped an old battered pick-up truck. When the bus finally came to a stop at the gas station, Red had Olga go and pay off the truck driver.

The truck driver looked to be about ninety, it is hard to tell because the Arctic weathers one's skin harshly. The passenger was a young girl of about 13 or 14, and when she saw "Justin Timberdoodle" she bolted out of the pick up and ran towards him shouting "I love you Justin".

At the gas station

The creepy looking agent who had been assigned as one of the fake Timberdoodle's bodyguards, stepped between him and the girl, raising his hands.

"Sorry young lady, but we're not stopping. Mr Timberdoodle has to go to the little viking's room."

Timberdoodle himself hurried off to find the toilets, which were in a seperate building around the back. Once he was locked inside a cubicle, he took off one of his shoes, fumbled around with it a bit, and pulled out an arial. He held the shoe to his face, and began whispering into it.

"Crazy Penguin to Uncle Walrus, Crazy Penguin to Uncle Walrus, come in Uncle Walrus."

He repeated himself a few times, before the reply came, "This is Uncle Walrus, go ahead Crazy Penguin."

"Mother Bear is in the Igloo, and the Lazy Seals are eating the-"

"Cut out that silly talk, man!" snapped Uncle Walrus, "This is Central Intelligence, not the Secret Service! Tell me straight!"

Timberdoodle frowned, and continued, "We have met up with a team of mercenaries who are conducting the extraction, and are on a tour bus en-route to Valnir; Registration VB3-R3E9-86. External group apparently named El-Cosa-Nazi? Further details unclear."

"Copy, Crazy Penguin. Number of mercenaries?"

"Only three, although I expect there may be more waiting in Valnir. Will keep you updated."

"Acknowledged. We will delay the strike until the last available moment, to maximise potential number of targets for capture. Keep your head down, and make contact on arrival in Valnir."

"Roger that, Uncle Walrus. Crazy Penguin out."

Lanstrom a.k.a. Timberdoodle a.k.a. Crazy Penguin pushed the arial back in, and put his shoe back on. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and strolled back outside to the bus.

OOC: I'm sorry this took so long to finish. Hope this frees up some money for the ENC corporation. Remember, WPB is the name you know and trust for mercenary services!

Out to sea, away from Korlingasbad

The HMS Bovine Growth Hormone finally sets sail, with the GELFs and the remains of the mercenary teams on board. They set sail for the drop off point.

Onboard the Bovine Growth Hormone.

0002-RSD is lying in a soggy heap on the deck, where one of the GELFs had dumped him. Slowly he begins to come round.

"Where am I?" he mumbles, "Is this Valhalla?" He focuses blearily on Captain Bautista, "Are you a Valkyrie?"

Great RP! The best rating I have ever given. But, a confusing ending?

OOC: We probably ought to archive this one.

Yes we should!

OOC: I feel it's sort of only half-finished, though.

So much written material...
Fascinating! (the amount, I didn't actually read any of it proper at all)
--- edited
Hey! I read the end! This is great!
Obviously the "huh am I in Valhalla?" refers to the Norwegian (I'm half-Norwegian btw) Neo-Nazis believing they would go to Valhalla after they died! (a funny idea, not realistic but some of the few of 'em are cracky enough for it)

OOC:
In attempt to bring some kind of closure to this story, we've decided to sum up as quickly as possible, with some rather summary posts.

IC:

On the Highway between Koenberg and Vaadenbruk

A police car had been trailing Jim Frod for some time, observing his reckless driving, and, with the deteriorating conditions, had finally decided to pull him over. Shortly afterwards, he was charged with endangering lives through reckless driving, and a number of illegal weapons offences, and, thanks to the expediency of the largely arbitrary Koenberg criminal court, was likely to be sentenced within a day or two.

Outskirts of Valnir

The bus had been chugging along the highway quite peacefully, and it seemed that amid all the chaos with the quarantine of Schroeberg up north, that it would escape attention. However, on the outskirts of the destination city, an ambush was being prepared.

"Damn Uncle Walrus for withholding information from me!" mutterd Special Forces Major Groenvold, to his senior NCO, as they waited on the roof of a building watching the road ahead. "If we hadn't intercepted that transmission, he'd have wrapped the operation up without including us at all, and taken all the glory for himself. Well, I've got news for him..."

"Sir, there's a bus!" a trooper further along called, "Registration matches; It's them alright!"

"Right, everyone get ready..." the Major crouched down at the edge of the roof, peering through the scope of his carbine. He heard the sound of the tripod mounted .50 BMG being cocked across the street. That noise always made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

One moment, the bus was driving quietly down an apparently abandoned backstreet, then suddenly the surrounding area errupted into a storm of fire and metal, as a whole company of special forces troops on rooftops and at windows opened up on the vehicle, smashing paintwork and glass, and causing it to swerve to a halt. One of its wheels had been blown right off.

Inside the bus, there was already a spray of blood and shrapnel before anyone realised what was going on. Only the GELFs were level-headed enough to calmly check their weapons and attempt to return fire, but from the swerving bus and difficult angle, they didn't have much success. Eventually, the bus skidded to a halt, and the surviving agents poured out the doors and windows, trying to return fire with their AK-47s and UMPs, but the Special forces troops were better equipped, and had a huge tactical superiority.

In the Chaos, 005_CMD managed to escape from the bus without attracting any fire. He looked around, and saw Lanstrom fleeing off in another direction. He thought about drawing his gun and shooting the worthless cretin, but decided better of it, since he didn't have anywhere much to run to. He glanced back at the bus, and saw one of his precious, extremely valuable GELFs getting shot to pieces. Immediately, he ordered the GELFs to disengage and follow him at once, and leave the expendable agents and scientists to take the fire. Five managed to make it to 005_CMD's sheltered position, without getting ripped apart by the hail of fire from above.

He glanced around, and saw that Red had managed to get away from the bus, and was taking cover nearby also. He made his way over as quickly as possible.

"Forget the rest of them; they'll serve as an adequate distraction while we get the hell out of here. Where's this escape ship?"

[sucky ambush though... they should've been able to nack 'em all]

[sucky ambush though... they should've been able to nack 'em all]

OOC: So should Imperial Stormtroopers. Well armed extras can't shoot straight; rule of storytelling :p

[ :sniper:

[ :sniper:

OOC: Alright, no more spamming up the thread. There's a few IC posts still to come, before this story's finally over.

*** Too late *******

***********Still Too Late ************

ooc : *kerblinks* I think we just went back in time!

Just to clarify, my last post regarding the guys in the bus happens After this. I didn't think we were going to RP out the Jim Frod bit in detail, so I'd skimmed over that, but I can pick up from there.


Edit:
******Hee hee, confusion!!**********

"Red" tells 005_CMD the location of the escape boat, the password exchange is "It is warm out tonight" "Yes it is certainly humid" "Don't forget your sunscreen."

Red says "Lets split up it will be harder to track us if we are singled up." with that he disappears into the night.


********Two hours later***********
At the Docks of Valnir

Red arrives at the escape boat, 005_CMD and 3 GELFs are already there. Out of nowhere two more GELFs arrive one is bleeding seriously from a wound on his left leg but he is not limping at all. After the exchange they get on the 60 foot Fountain Cigarette boat sporting three 1,200 horsepower Hawk engines. The captain of the boat tells them to strap in it is going to be a very rough ride. With a roar the engines come to life, in seconds they are traveling over 80 knots away from the harbor.

In little more than an hour they approach a secluded pier on the coast of Iceland. The pier is shrouded in steamy mists from a large fumerole nearby masking their approach. As soon as they dock a large man in a heavy raincoat approaches. He hands them new passports, airline tickets (6 to E-C-N Corporation, 1 to Scotland) and a large compression bandage for the wounded GELF. He takes his slacks off and gives them to the wounded GELF. An eleven passenger van is waiting at the end of the pier. It takes them to the airport. Red says his goodbyes to 005_CMD and heads for the plane to Scotland

OOC: I fix:)

OOC: Hooray! :)

IC:

At the wreckage of the bus

The special forces troops moved in carefully. They were well aware from previous experience that just because a GELF stopped moving, he wasn't necessarily dead, and could quite likely sit up and start shooting again if they weren't careful. Flesh wounds didn't tend to slow them; you had to put a bullet into something vital before they stopped fighting back. This was part of the reason their ambush had been so tentative and part of the reason why a number of targets had escaped.

The one lying sprawled at Major Groenvold's feet didn't look like he was going to be fighting back; the GELF's jaw had been shot clean off, as well as other wounds, and the quantity of blood splattered across the pavement was staggering, not just from this one, but from all the dead agents and scientists that lay scattered about the place.

There was a burst of gunfire from the other side of the bus, as one of Greonvold's men made sure of a GELF that was probably pretty dead already. 0021_SEC didn't pay the sound much heed, as he continued to limp away from the scene of the fight, now two streets away. He paused, and tore off a sleeve to make a temporary tourniquet for the wound in his leg. It was hard, because he was seething in anger at the sight of 005_CMD running off with the GELFs and leaving him to die. Well, if he ever got his hands on 005_CMD again, there would be a reckoning. He imagined what retribution he might visit on his former commander, as he limped off into the night.


On a cruise liner bound for the Great Lakes, two days later.

A group of shadowy figures sat around a roulette wheel, in a smoke filled room on deck B. The croupier hadn't turned the wheel in a while; he was standing by the door making sure nobody unwanted happened to wander into the room at that time.

"So," said a man, who went by the codename 001_CMD, "I hear they still haven't confirmed the death or capture of 005_CMD. He's wilier than we gave him credit for."

"Indeed," concurred a woman, whose codename was 002_CMD, "No doubt he will try to take his money and run, but I'm sure we can convince him that his services are still required."

"So," said 001_CMD, who tended to begin sentences with 'so', "The master race project is a write-off. Still, not our primary concern. How is project Domovoi?"

The woman hesitated, "It is... stable, for now. Once the facility in Lake Ontario confirms its arrival, we shall know more."

"Excellent." 001_CMD purred, approvingly, "Croupier, time for another spin of the wheel. Are you in, my dear?"

"Yes," said 002_CMD, "Of course."


(Dun dun duuuuuun!)


THE END